Short Stories of Parenthood
by jamesgatz1925
Summary: Short Stories of Sherlock, John, and their son Ian. I do not own Sherlock or John.
1. Chapter 1

**The First Time They Brought Ian Home**

Sherlock carried the car seat from the hospital room to the car Mycroft brought over. Of course he had, Sherlock was all about that baby and _nobody, _not even John at times, was going to touch him without consent.

Sherlock did not care that the doctors and nurses have degrees. "So does my husband." he'd said. Sherlock did not care that they knew what they were doing, "Not for my child you don't." Sherlock did not care that John had barely touched him since he'd arrived, "You're too tense, John. And wash your hands."

Sherlock was like the overbearing mother, and John did mind a little bit.

"He's my son too, Sherlock."

"Oh, I know, I'm sorry. It's just…" Sherlock touched his palm against Ian, feeling his light breathing. Sherlock was mesmerized.

They arrived at 221B and Mrs. Hudson was waiting for them. She had the flat nice and warm, not that it was that cold out, and she had enough food for John and Sherlock to last them at least two weeks, probably longer because Sherlock never ate. Sherlock had supplied the flat with baby necessities already, of course he had. He'd had baby necessities ready since the pregnancy test Amy took turned out positive.

"Welcome home, Ian." John whispered to the baby as he lifted him out of his car seat. He walked around the room pointing to things and telling Ian what it was. "That's Daddy's skull, he talks to it every once in a while. You get used to it. And that there, that's Daddy's favorite part of the whole flat: the sofa." John chuckled, "But don't worry, I'm sure he'll share with you."

Sherlock approached John and wrapped one arm around him. "We did it, John."

"Yes, we did," John looked into Sherlock's eyes, "I love you."

Sherlock kissed John, "I love you, too."


	2. Chapter 2: Artwork

"Again."

Sherlock did it again.

Tiny giggles.

"Again."

Sherlock did it again.

Tiny giggles.

"Once more, pleeeease Daddy."

Sherlock did it once more.

Tiny giggles.

"Ok, no more."

"Pleeeeease."

Sherlock did it ooooooone last time.

Tiny giggles.

Ten minutes later, Sherlock and Ian were in Ian's bedroom when they heard John get off the couch. They paused and listened as John stood and stretched, marched to the bathroom, opened the door, clicked on the light, and yelled.

"Sherlock!" he called.

They scrambled as they heard John exit the bathroom, trot across the living room floor, lunge up the stairs, and storm into Ian's bedroom. John heard snickering from the closet, and instead of confronting them, he left them in there for forty-five minutes, then spent another hour giving them the 'half-playing-along-half-really-angry' silent treatment.

That was the last time Sherlock and Ian drew on John's face as he slept.


	3. Chapter 3: Candy

"Sherlock."

Sherlock didn't look up from his beakers, "Mmmm?"

"What did I tell you about letting Ian have candy?"

"What?"

"Remember, the dentist said if he had sweets that often, then-"

"I don't know what you're talking about, John. I gave him no sweets." Sherlock still didn't look up.

"Yeah? Then why is his mouth blue?"

"Is it?"

"Yes, it is."

"Maybe he's ill or something. You're the doctor-"

"I told you not to give him candy."

"I didn't."

"Then who did?"

"Maybe he had some while I wasn't watching him."

"One, they're on the top shelf. You had to have gotten it for him. Two, why were you not watching him had he done that? And three, we hid the candy while he was asleep, he couldn't have known it was there."

"I don't know what you want me to do about it." Sherlock finally took his eyes off the beaker and looked at John.

"Sherlock."

"John?"

"Why is your mouth blue?"

"It…it is?"

"It is, Sherlock."

"Maybe I'm ill, too. Quick, get out! Before you catch it!"

"Pssst," Ian got Sherlock's attention from the door behind John, "Daddy, I think he's on to us." John quickly turned around and instantly Ian was gone.

"Yes, thank you, son." Sherlock called after him.


	4. Chapter 4: Soft Spot

"Sherlock?"

"What?"

"Why did you let Ian go to bed without cleaning his room?"

"He told me he'd do it later."

"And then he never does it."

"He was tired, John."

"Sherlock Holmes-"

"Watson."

"Do you have a soft spot for children?"

"No. I have a soft spot for my child."

"Uh-huh."

"You know how manipulative and powerful he can be. I have no idea where he got that from…"

"Sure, the next minute he's going to be completely controlling his flat-mate."

"Do I control you?"

"Oh, no." John pulled his blanket over his chest and smiled, "Sherlock, will you tidy up downstairs before bed?"

"I'll do it later."

"Sure." John chuckled to himself. "You're lucky I've got a soft spot for you."


	5. Chapter 5: Solar System

"Ian, come here," John pulled Ian next to him and held his tiny wrist, "Go tell Daddy you have to learn about the solar system and you want him to teach you."

Ian trotted over to Sherlock and tapped his shoulder, "Daddy?"

"Yes?" Sherlock looked from his book to Ian.

"I, uh, I have to learn about the solar system, and I want you to teach me."

Sherlock's face went from pleasant to scowling in seconds, "Damnit, John, for the fifth time it's not that funny!"

John couldn't move he was laughing so hard.


	6. Chapter 6: Hate

**The first, and only time, Ian ever told Sherlock he hated him. **

Sherlock wasn't the bad cop, ever. He was very, very much the good cop.

Not to say John was a _bad _cop, he was just more strict than Sherlock. That's how he was raised, that's how his son was going to be raised.

So the first time Sherlock ever punished Ian was definitely the last.

Ian was six. He'd gotten up on the kitchen table and messed with whatever experiment Sherlock had going on. He picked up a beaker full of blue liquid, and poured it into the beaker of red liquid. As he was finishing emptying the beaker, Sherlock came around the corner.

"Ian, no!" Sherlock shouted. Ian dropped the beaker, letting it shatter into tiny pieces. "What did you do?" Sherlock shouted again.

"I, I-" Ian stuttered. Sherlock roughly pulled him off the table.

"Damnit, Ian! This was an important study for Lestrade. And you messed it up!" Sherlock was still shouting.

"I'm sorry, Daddy, I-" Ian began to cry. Never had Sherlock every raised his voice at him.

"Stop it, Ian! You've disappointed me very much!" Sherlock shouted, still.

"Stop yelling at me!" Ian shouted.

"Oh, no! I'll keep yelling at you because I worked very, very hard on this! Now I have to start it over, it could take weeks! It was almost finished and you had to ruin it!"

Ian rubbed his hands over his eyes, just then John walked in the door. "What's going on?" he questioned, pulling his coat off. Ian and Sherlock didn't notice him.

"You're hurting my feelings, Dad!"

"Good, Ian! You hurt mine!"

"I hate you," Ian said to himself.

"What did you just say to me?" Sherlock asked.

"I said I hate you!" Ian turned and ran up the stairs, sobbing the whole way. When he got into his room, he slammed the door.

John looked from Ian to Sherlock, saw the same expression of hurt on Sherlock's face, then watched Sherlock storm out of the flat, slamming the door.

John raced upstairs to Ian's room. Ian was laying on the bed with his face in his pillow, clutching his stuffed shark. He was crying very loudly, so he didn't hear John come in.

"Hey, hey," John placed his hand on Ian's back, "What happened?"

Ian pulled his face off the pillow and looked at John, "I didn't mean to, Dad. I didn't mean to mess up Daddy's experiment."

"I know you didn't, but Daddy is very upset."

"And I didn't mean it when I said I hate him, Dad! I promise I didn't mean it!"

"I know you didn't, and Daddy knows you didn't." John ran his fingers through Ian's black hair.

"Does he hate me, Dad? Is he going to hate me now?" Ian began to cry harder than before.

John immediately pulled Ian onto his lap. He rubbed his head and tried to shush him, but Ian's crying continued. "God, no, sweetie. Daddy loves you more than anything in the world, he loves you more than that experiment, more than any experiment. He was upset and that's why he yelled."

"Is he going to come back?"

"Of course he will."

"Can I call him? Please?"

John pulled his phone out and dialed for Ian. He gave the phone to his son, then waited for Sherlock to pick up.

He didn't.

They tried again.

No answer.

"Why isn't he answering, Dad?"

"I don't know, maybe he's going through a tunnel, ok?" John sent Sherlock a text. It read: "If you don't answer your phone the next time Ian calls, so help me, Sherlock Holmes, I will kill you."

They called again.

"Hello?" Sherlock asked. He was still angry, but he knew he needed to calm down.

Ian cried again, his words were barely audible, "I'm sorry, Daddy. I don't hate you, I love you!"

"I know, son. I love you, too."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Even though I messed up your experiment?"

"Yes, I'll always love you. It's just sometimes I'll be upset. But it's ok, because eventually I won't be upset anymore."

"Are you still upset?"

"Yes, Ian. I'm still upset."

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"I know."

"Will you come home now?"

Sherlock didn't reply, instead Ian and John heard the door to 221B opening and closing. John took the phone from Ian as Ian raced off the bed and out of the room.

They met at the stairs, the big version and the little version embracing in a big hug. Sherlock stroked Ian's hair, pressing his nose into the small temple and kissing his cheek. Sherlock smiled, because no matter what will ever happen, he's still got his son.


	7. Chapter 7: Alone

John took as much time off that he could when Ian was born. Sarah gave him three months of shifts that were either only a few hours a day or all the time off. Money wasn't an issue, of course. Up until then they took any case they could get their hands on, plus a little bit of funds provided from Sherlock's Mummy. It was all perfect, really.

At the end of the three months, John sadly returned to full shifts at work. He went in at 9 or 10 AM and would be home as late as 5 or 6 PM.

On the first day back, John woke at 8 AM to get to work by 10. He knew Sherlock wasn't going to let him leave easily, which means he had to begin to leave at 9:25, plus he needed to shower and eat breakfast, plus he told Sherlock he'd feed Ian before he left.

At 9:25, John hovered over Sherlock and told him it was time to go.

"Five more minutes, John."

"You do this every time I have to go to work and the answer is always no." John was bouncing up and down with Ian in one arm and one hand on Sherlock's chest. "Here, take Ian and enjoy the rest of your day alone."

"I don't want a day alone, I want a day with both of you."

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, but I have to go back to work."

Sherlock pouted.

"Don't do that, Sherlock. Please. I can't afford to feel bad about going. It might compel me to quit my job."

"Please."

"No. Don't. Just," John gently laid Ian on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock ran his fingers through the soft baby hair and touched his cheek bones. "I love you, ok? It'll be fine. If anything happens, just give me a call. Don't forget to warm the bottles first, ok? And he'll probably need to eat about 11, don't forget. And-"

"Stop, John. I can definitely handle this. I'm not scared of an infant, _my _infant."

"You're not?" John half smiled and chuckled, "Jesus I was terrified the first day you ran off with an important case."

"Well, you and I are different. Ian and I understand one another because I'm-"

"Also an infant at times?"

"No," Sherlock snapped, "I was going to say I'm good with babies."

"Oh, right. Yeah, ok, Sherlock. Just call me if you need anything." John looked at his watch, "Oh, geez, yeah I've got to go. I'm going to be late. I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I love you, Ian." John bent forward to kiss the tiny forehead.

**Two hours later **

John's phone beeped indicating he had a voicemail. He knew it was coming, he felt it buzz all through the diagnosis of a ten-year-old with a mild fever. John took his phone out of his pocket, six missed called and three voicemails. He clicked to play the first.

Sherlock's calm voice flooded John's ear, "John? Look, it's really nothing but I can't seem to get Ian to drink his bottle and go back to sleep. I think he's tired, but he just…" Sherlock's voice trailed off as he held a side conversation with Ian, "Anyway, John, just call me back, ok? Love you."

The second message left Sherlock sounding more nervous, "John, it's been twenty minutes since I last called and he's still upset. _Please _call me."

The third message, Sherlock sounded frantic in every way he could sound frantic, "Hello, John. Yes, I'm just calling to tell you that I'm rubbish as a father, but since you won't answer your phone in this emergency, once Ian is calmed down we are fleeing to Brazil. Don't try to follow us, we understand you don't see this as a crisis situation," Sherlock sounded pulled away from the phone, "Yes, Ian, I am talking to Dad. What? You want me to tell him good-bye? If you insist." Sherlock was back to John, "John, I've loved what we've had together but people grow apart. I grow apart from you with a screaming baby in my arms. Farewell, John. Our love was well."

John laughed and dialed Sherlock. He laughed until Sherlock answered the phone.

"Hello?" Sherlock whispered.

"Hey, how's it going?"

"Oh, you know." Sherlock still whispered.

"Crisis averted?"

"Crisis averted. However, I'm stuck on the floor of the loo with the bathtub running."

"Don't sit in there all day! Our bill for water is going to be astronomical!"

"I'll sit in here as long as it takes Ian to stop being dependant on running water."

"Sherlock!"

"Sssshh, he can hear you!"

John sighed and ran his hand over his face, "All right, whatever. I'll see you soon."

"We are still fleeing to Brazil."

"Good. Maybe then my water bill will be back to normal."

"Not if I break a pipe."

"Don't you dare."

"See if I don't."

"You're a pain."

"Stop leaving us for work."

"I have to!"

"You don't _have _to."

"I do. This is my profession."

"You're not very good at it. You're much better at being a husband and a father."

"Being a husband and a father doesn't pay our bills."

"I could pay you."

"How?"

"Do you want me to tell you over the phone," Sherlock smiled a wicked smile, "Or do you want me to show you tonight?"

John moaned, "I wish you could just show me now."

"Come home and I will."

"No, you're not leaving Ian alone in the loo."

"I'm not going to sit here forever."

"You will as long as he's fussy."

"Ok, I'm going to try to stand up and go to the living room. Hang on." John heard Sherlock put the phone down, then Sherlock stand and turn the water off, then Ian screaming. The water was instantly back on and the screaming stopped. "Nope, nope. Staying here."

John laughed. "All right. Don't flood the flat. I'll see you later."

"Perhaps we'll grow gills and fins by the time you get home. Goodbye."

John had a smile on his face for the rest of the day.


	8. Chapter 8: Jacket

"Dad, wait." Ian said, pulling John's arm to stop him in front of a high-end clothing store.

John paused and looked at Ian, then at what Ian was drooling at in the window. "Really, son?"

"I need it, Dad." 

"You don't need it. What are you going to do with a black leather jacket?" 

"Wear it every moment of my life, I swear I would." 

"You're 15-years-old." 

"I'll be 16 in a week. I'll save up for it, I don't care. I need it." 

John pulled on his son's arm to get him to snap out of his black leather jacket trance. 

Back at the flat, after Ian's gone to bed, John tells Sherlock about the jacket. "You should have seen him, Hun, I haven't seen him that excited about something since we told him we could get a snake a few years ago." 

"Yeah, and you see how that turned out." 

"So you're against this? Because I was actually thinking about getting it for him for his birthday." 

"I knew what you were thinking. I'm not against it, I just don't want him to ruin it or something. It's got to be very expensive." 

"Hey, I thought I was the one that worries about money." 

"I'm just saying—" 

"I know. I know, Sherlock, it's just that I think he really wants it." 

"If you want to get it for him, go ahead." Sherlock said it with a smile. He's the one that likes to spoil Ian anyway. 

A week later, Ian is eagerly tearing open a box from the expensive store. He knows what it is, he recognized the store name, but nonetheless he opens it and squeals. 

"Dad, no way!" Ian says, pulling the jacket out of the box and pulling it on. 

"Do you like it?" Sherlock asks. 

"Like it? I love it!" Ian goes to the couch where Sherlock and John are sitting together. He takes his dads in his arms, kisses them both, and pulls back to peer at his jacket. 

The next day, Ian waltzes into the kitchen with his jacket slung over one shoulder, wearing a white t shirt and deep blue jeans. "I'm going to meet Henry." he says, leaning in and kissing

Sherlock's cheek. He steps around the table and kisses John, too. 

As he leaves, John raises his eyebrows and watches him exit the flat. Then John looks at Sherlock, who has the same confused expression on his face. 

"Who was that?" Sherlock asks. 

"I think that used to be our son." 

"He's a new man now." 

"Well he did just turn 16." 

Sherlock laughs. 

"Next thing you know he'll be making out with some girl in an alley." 

"Why do you think that?" Sherlock asks, alarmed. 

John chuckles, "That's what I did when I got a leather jacket." 

Sherlock laughs very loud, "You had a leather jacket?" 

"Of course. I was cool." 

"Yeah, very cool, John."


	9. Chapter 9: Smoking

For a while now, Sherlock has been picking up on a certain scent when Ian gets home. After about the twentieth time, he told John. 

"He smells, John." 

"Yeah? He's a boy. We often smell." 

"No, like," Sherlock sniffs Ian's jacket again, "Cigarettes. And poorly made perfume." 

"Perfume?" 

"Is that what you're concerned about?" 

"No, sorry. Do you think he's smoking?" 

"I don't think he's smoking. I know he's smoking." 

John tells Sherlock he can handle it. And Sherlock does handle it. A week later. 

"Can you tell me how long you've had this secret?" Sherlock asks as he gazes down at Ian who is sitting on his bed holding the pack Sherlock found. 

"Why are you even asking? Of course you know. Are you going to Punish me or not?" 

"We need to talk about this." 

"Why?" 

"Why? Because you're 15!" 

"Only for six more months." 

"You're far too young, Ian. How did you even buy these?" 

"We had an older kid buy them." 

"We?" 

"James and I." 

"Does James' parents know he has this habit?" 

"First of all, it's not a habit—" 

"Of course it's a habit." 

"And James' parents don't know." 

"Should I break it to them?" 

"No!" Ian shouts. "Hell get in trouble." 

"And you're not going to?" 

"I didn't say that." 

"What do you think your punishment should be?" 

"I don't know." 

"I think not being able to go out for a few weeks should give the addiction long enough to kick, don't you?" 

"Fine." Ian pouts. Before Sherlock leaves, Ian stops him. "How old were you when you started?" he asks. 

"Let's see…I think my first one was when I was 14. And I had a consistent habit when I was around 16." 

"So you were young, too." 

"Yes. Which is why I don't want this for you." 

"Why'd you start?" 

Sherlock sighs, "Well at first it was just to try. And after that it was because it helped me think." 

"What if it helps me think?" 

Sherlock laughs, "Find something else."

Ian shrugs and hands Sherlock the cigarettes. Sherlock takes them downstairs and begins to take one out of the pack, but John stops him.

"What?" Sherlock asks. "I was just going to have one."

"You're setting a great example." John takes them from Sherlock and crushes them in his hand. Sherlock watches and rolls his eyes, but he knows John's right.


	10. Chapter 10: Date

"Hey, son," John starts, "Want to go to the planetarium Saturday?" 

"I can't." 

"Can't? Why?" 

"I've got a date." 

"A date? With who?" 

"A girl named Leslie." 

"Oh yeah? And where are you taking Leslie?" 

"To dinner." 

"Dinner? With what money?" 

"I have some saved." 

"Where've you got money coming in from?" 

Ian bashfully looks down, then says, "Uncle Mycroft."

"Ian! How many times do I have to tell you to stop taking your uncle's bribes?"

"One more time telling me won't hurt."

"You realize you are _spying _on your father."

"Not really, if you think about it, I'm—"

"You are spying on him."

"He asks me about you, too."

"So you're spying on me now?"

The argument ends and on Saturday, Ian comes downstairs about to leave for his date.

"Where are you taking her, son?" Sherlock asks.

"Probably Angelo's."

"You're taking her somewhere you don't even need to pay?" John asks.

"Isn't that where you two went on your first date?"

"That wasn't a date!" John says.

"Yes it was." Sherlock adds.

Ian picks Leslie up and the two kids go to Angelo's. They talk and have a great time, then Ian walks her home. She kisses his cheek and Ian begins to head home, when out of the shadows comes Sherlock.

"Jesus, Dad!" Ian shouts, "You scared me."

"I meant to. Do you think that's any way to greet an attacker?"

"Good thing you're not an attacker."

"How was your date?"

"It was good. Fun. Why are you here?"

"I'm making sure you're safe."

"Of course I'm safe."

"I can never be too sure."

"Did you follow Dad on his dates too? Before you got married?"

"Actually, I did."

"I don't want to know."

Sherlock places his arm around Ian's shoulders and kisses his head.

"Dad!" Ian pulls away. He looks back towards Leslie's house. "We're still too close!"

"Oh, please." Sherlock says, pulling Ian back towards him. They both laugh and walk home.


	11. Chapter 11: Leslie

Her name is Leslie, and Ian wouldn't consider her his first girlfriend. He's almost 15 and though he claims to have had a few before, Sherlock and John consider her first. 

She comes over every other afternoon, that is if he doesn't go to her house. This afternoon they go up to Ian's bedroom. It's their first time up there alone and Sherlock and Jon like to spy. 

"Hey I brought your laundry up." John says, opening Ian's door. The two kids break apart and Ian wipes his lips. "What's going on here?" he asks. 

"Dad, what are you doing?" 

"Laundry." John holds up the basket and continues staring at Ian. 

He leaves a minute later, but ten minutes after that, Sherlock barges in. "Hey, son!" he says, watching the kids break apart again. 

Leslie laughs and Ian scowls. "What are you doing?" he asks. 

"I came to…to…get…" Sherlock grabs something random off Ian's shelf. As he leaves, he leaves the door open. 

"Can you close the door, Dad?" 

"Door stays open!" Sherlock calls up the stairs. 

Leslie laughs. 

"Stop laughing," Ian says, "They're not funny." 

"I think they are. Besides, your dad's kind of hot." 

Ian gets a smug smile on his face, "Yeah, because he looks like me." 

Leslie laughs harder, "Not him, the other one!" 

Ian gets a straight face. "Please don't say my dad's hot."


	12. Chapter 12: Misplaced

**Not the first time Sherlock misplaced Ian**

Sherlock's had to take Ian to Scotland Yard more times than he can count. It's not like it's a big deal, Ian's not difficult to take out and the whole of Scotland Yard loves him. Even Anderson, even though he's _his _kid.

It was Sherlock's self-day off, so Mrs. Hudson, who usually babysits Ian, took the day to visit her sister. John was at work, even though Sherlock begged him not to go.

Sherlock and Ian didn't bother getting dressed, they had no plans to go anywhere. They sat around all day watching Peter Pan or reading. At 1:32 PM, Sherlock's phone rang.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock, it's me," Gregory Lestrade said on the other side, "I need you."

"What is it?"

"A murder just came in, we haven't released it or anything yet. I need you to look over what evidence we have."

Sherlock glanced at Ian. "At the scene?"

"No, here at the Yard."

"Why not at the scene?"

"Well, we didn't figure it was murder until we got here."

"Hold on, Lestrade." Sherlock held his hand over the receiver and whispered to Ian, "Do you mind if we run to the Yard for a bit?" Ian viciously shook his head. He loved going to the Yard. "Alright, Greg. We'll be right there."

"Thanks, Sherlock. I owe you one."

Sherlock hung up and made to get off the bed. "Come on, put some clothes on."

Ian jumped up and jumped into Sherlock's arms. "We're not going to wait for Dad?"

"No, Lestrade needs us now."

Ian sighed as Sherlock carried him into his room, then stood him on the bed and went to his bedside dresser. Sherlock pulled out a blue t-shirt, tiny jeans that matched his, and socks. "Lift." Sherlock said, watching Ian lift his arms for Sherlock to pull his shirt on. Ian brushed his black strands out of his face. Sherlock smiled at Ian and Ian smiled back. Sherlock rolled up one of Ian's pant legs and let the boy press his foot into the hole, then did the same with the other leg. He lifted his pants, zipping and buttoning.

"Can I wear my scarf, Daddy?"

"Absolutely." Sherlock sat Ian down and pulled his socks on, followed by his shoes. "We need to get you some new shoes. Are these ones too tight?"

"Almost. I'd say I can wear them for a few more days."

"Just quit growing and I won't have to keep buying you new shoes."

"But I want to be big and tall like you and Dad."

Sherlock chuckled, "Let me tell you something, son. Dad's not that tall."

"I know, you're taller."

"That's right."

"But I can be strong like Dad, right? He's strong. Remember last week when he punched Mr. Dimmock in the face?"

Sherlock laughed, "That will never be forgotten, trust me."

"Daddy, will I be strong like Dad? Sometimes muscles are ge-gen-"

"Genetic?"

"Yeah, that."

"Where did you learn what genetic is?" Sherlock stared at the astonishing 5-year-old.

"I don't know. That means I can be strong like him, right? Because they're genetic?"

Sherlock swallowed and looked into Ian's bright eyes. "Let's talk about this later, ok?" Sherlock finished tying Ian's left shoe. "We've got a murder to solve."

They took a cab to Scotland Yard. When they got out, Sherlock let Ian pay the cab driver, even though he had a horrible distrust of cabbies. They got up to Lestrade's floor. Sherlock held Ian's hand, slowly walking him through the office. Some places along the desks, people ruffled Ian's hair or gave him high-fives. Sherlock hated how people touched him, but he wasn't going to make a scene now. His brain was going into detective-mode and out of dad-mode.

"Daddy, I'm going to Sally's desk. She has crayons."

Sherlock didn't think about it, he just nodded and hardly felt Ian let go of his hand.

Half an hour later, Sherlock had looked through every photo twice and every piece of evidence three times. Not enough DNA here, not enough rough play there.

"It wasn't murder."

"How do you know?"

"Finger prints."

"Finger prints?"

"Yes, had it been murder, the finger print marks here would have been deeper," Sherlock looked at Lestrade, then pointed at a photograph of the victim's neck. "See, there? _That _finger print is deep. Whoever killed this person didn't mean to, they checked for a pulse there after. When there wasn't one, they dug deeper, hoping to making have just, I don't know, knocked the vein out of the way? Idiots. Anyway, that one bruise there is too much deeper than the others. It was an accident."

"Right." Lestrade nodded, "You're sure?"

"Positive." Sherlock clapped his hands together and looked around. "Where is my son?"

"You said he could go to Sally's desk."

"I did?"

"Yes, Sherlock."

Sherlock went to Sally's desk. She didn't have him. Sherlock automatically began to panic. Scotland Yard is big, there are a lot of people that go in and out. Ian could be anywhere. Sherlock yelled for him, but there was no answer heard. Nobody knew where he was. Sally went upstairs to look, while Dimmock went downstairs.

"I haven't got time to look for your kid, Holmes."

"Like bloody hell you don't," Lestrade said, "You assaulted his father last week, the least you could do is help find him." Dimmock rolled his eyes and went downstairs.

After ten minutes they couldn't find him and Sherlock's mind was cloudy. He could be anywhere by now. Sherlock sat down, he began to feel woozy. He rubbed his eyes, then his jaw. Sherlock wondered where he'd disappear to if he was five. He racked his brain for any possible clue as to where Ian was. He recalled the ride over when Ian yawned loudly and widely.

"Tired?" Sherlock asked.

"Just a bit."

"That was more than a bit."

Ian rubbed his eyes, "I'm sure I'll need a nap later, ok Daddy?"

That was it. Sherlock got on his hands and knees and scanned under the desks.

"What are you doing?" Lestrade questioned.

"He's asleep, that's why he can't hear me. Sleeps like a rock, that child." Sherlock spotted a messy heap on the floor under a desk on the other side of the office. "There he is!" Sherlock exclaimed, hopping to his feet. He went to where Ian was, got back on his knees, pulled the boy out from under the desk, crawled out, and picked him up. Ian didn't even wake, he just rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder and continued to drool. "On my coat, no less." Sherlock murmured to himself.

Sherlock and Ian took a cab back home, and as they were exiting their cab, John was exiting his. "Where were you two?" John asked.

"Scotland Yard needed us."

"Anything interesting?"

"Not a murder, it was an accident. And I lost Ian, also an accident."

As John stepped into 221B, he exclaimed, "You, what?"

"I misplaced him, but don't worry. Look, he's here, see?"

"You're an idiot, Sherlock. How do you lose a five-year-old?"

"Oh, but not realizing he was gone at the shop two weeks ago was nothing, hmm, Father-of-the-Year?"

John scowled, "Fine, we're even."

Sherlock went upstairs and laid Ian in his bed, then removed his coat and scarf. Sherlock and John took turns kissing the boy's head, then left the room and kissed each other.

"I missed you guys today." John said, pulling Sherlock into a tight hug and nuzzling his nose into Sherlock's neck.

"I know, we missed you. We had an interesting conversation."

"Yeah?" John nuzzled deeper into Sherlock's neck, unbuttoning his coat. "About?"

"Well, Ian said he wants to be tall like you and I," Sherlock paused for a second as he felt John's tongue running over his jugular vein, "Don't worry, darling, I correcting him in saying you're not tall."

John bit down on Sherlock's neck, leaving a nice red mark. "Ass," John whispered as he again stuck his tongue out and ran it over Sherlock's exposed neck. "How long do you think he'll be asleep?"

"I don't know."

"You want to," John unzipped and unbuttoned Sherlock's pants, pulling them to guide Sherlock into their bedroom, "You want to hurry, then?"

"Oh, of course." Sherlock said, pushing John onto the bed.


	13. Chapter 13: New Friends

"So, Ian," Sherlock picked up a piece of toast and began to butter it, "I heard you made a friend at school." The six-year-old motioned to take the knife from his father, but Sherlock pulled it back. "Ahh, I'll do it." Sherlock said, picking up Ian's toast and applying an ample amount of jam to it. He handed it back to Ian then looked at Ian with his eye brows perched upwards indicating curiosity to learn about Ian's new friend.

"Yes, I made a new friend." Ian sighed. "A best friend, actually, Daddy."

"Oh, yes? When did you two meet?"

Ian held up two fingers while biting into his toast, "Two days ago." he mumbled with his mouth full.

"Two days and you're already sworn to best friend duties? A bit quick, don't you think?"

"Uncle Mycroft told me once that Dad and you were best friends after two days."

Sherlock paused mid-bite into his toast and glanced at his son, who didn't look a bit bothered by any of it. "I suppose you're right."

"Anyway, we are best friends now."

"I thought I was your best friend."

"You don't count."

"Why not?"

"You're my Daddy."

"Your Dad is my husband and he's my best friend."

"Well, Daddy, if I'm not your best friend then you can't be my best friend."

Sherlock looked straight faced at his son, "When did you get so clever?"

"When I turned six."

Sherlock shrugged and sipped his coffee. Once he set it down he shrugged again, "It hurts my feelings, son, that I am not your best friend." he said dramatically nonchalantly.

Ian set his toast down and rubbed his hands together, letting crumbs fall to his plate. He grabbed Sherlock's wrist and held it tight, "Listen, Daddy." Ian's eyes locked on to Sherlock's, "I've got a best friend now. You're just going to have to be happy with Dad."

Sherlock held back a laugh and smile, instead trying to look distraught and dramatic. He threw the back of his hand over his eyes, "How will I ever go on?" he cried.

Ian let go of his wrist and redirected his attention to his toast, "I think you'll be ok, Daddy. If it makes you feel better, you can let me sleep in your bed tonight. I won't mind."

"You know you're getting to big to sleep in our bed." Sherlock said, standing to put his plate and mug away.

"I'm willing to negotiate time off school to go bed shopping. You're right, Daddy, you and Dad need a bigger bed."

Sherlock spun around to look at Ian again. He crossed his arms over his chest, "What are you talking about? How did we go from your new best friend to the size of my bed?"

"I'm just saying, Daddy."

"Stop acting like you're older. You're six, remember that. Now," Sherlock sat back down cattycorner to Ian, "Tell me about your best friend. What's his name?"

"_Her _name is Amy, Daddy."

"Amy?"

"Yeah, I know, like your friend."

"That's right. What does _she _look like?"

"Well, she has green eyes that kind of remind me of a cat's eyes. And she has long blonde hair that is always in a braid. And she has two dad's too, isn't that cool, Daddy?"

"That's marvelous." Sherlock said, smiling down at his son. "Do you have a, sort of, crush on Amy?"

"I've only known her two days. Why, did you have a crush on Dad after two days?"

Sherlock felt a smile creep over his lips. "I was just asking."

"Well, no. I don't think so. She's my friend. My best friend."

"Good." Ian sighed. "What is it?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm just wondering if Amy can come over for dinner next week."

"Of course. Why didn't you just ask?"

"I don't want you to embarrass me."

"Do I embarrass you?" Sherlock asked, appalled.

"You embarrass Dad in front of his friends."

"How do you know that?"

"That look he gives you after you de-dedu-"

"Deduce."

"Yeah, that. After you do that to someone."

Sherlock scowled, "Well, Dad's friends are different from a six-year-old girl, understand?"

"Uh-huh."

"Stop being so grown up." Sherlock playfully nudged Ian's head, letting his dark mop of hair bop off his forehead. "Can you put your plate in the sink when you're done?" Ian shrugged, no longer paying attention.

That night, Sherlock retold that morning's breakfast conversation to John.

"Her name's Amy? Just like-"

"Yeah, I know." Sherlock smiled. "Anyway, he asked if she can come over for dinner next week and I told him that'd be alright."

"Wonderful. Friday, let's try for Friday."

"Perfect. I'll ring one of her fathers tomorrow and-"

"She's got two fathers?"

"Yeah, she does." Sherlock watched John's lips press into a satisfied half-smile. "Also, our son thinks we need a bigger bed."

"Yeah? Why is that?"

"So he can sleep with us more often."

John laughed, "I don't think so."

"Why not? I like when he sleeps in here, I can listen to him closely all night. And it soothes you, I know it does."

John crawled to the other side of the bed where Sherlock was pulling back the sheets on his side to slide in. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck and pulled the standing man to his face. "Not as much as my sexy husband soothes me at night."

"Oh, yeah? How do you think he should do that tonight?" Sherlock's pupils peeked into excitement. He leaned in and kissed John quickly.

"He should start by getting into the bed and holding me tight while I fall asleep, because I am beat." John let Sherlock go and got into the bed under the sheets.

"You tease." Sherlock mumbled and slid in next to John.

On Friday, Amy's dad, Jack, brought her to 221B. Ian opened the door and greeted them, then invited them both inside for introductions. John came around the corner from the kitchen and was shocked to see Jack, who was very handsome, standing in the doorway.

"Oh, hello," John said, startled. "You must be Jack? Hi, I'm John."

"Hello, John. This is Amy." Jack placed his hands on Amy's shoulders.

"I've heard so much about you, Amy." John said, shaking Jack then Amy's hands.

"You'll excuse my husband, John. He's caught at work and unfortunately won't make it here this evening. Daft bastard, you'll pardon my language. I told him to be home by four for us to come over here, and he called at 3:30 informing me that he has to stay late. I tell you, can't do anything about these hours these days."

"I know exactly how you feel, I'm in the same boat. I don't even know where Sherlock is."

Jack chuckled and gazed down at Amy. Amy looked up at him and said, "I'm going to play now, Dad." Ian led her upstairs.

Jack helped John in the kitchen as much as he could. They opened a bottle of wine and began to drink it. They made interesting conversation about their children, about the adoption process for Amy and the surrogate process for Ian.

"You should see my husband," John said, "They look exactly alike, it's almost scary."

Jack laughed. They talked about work; John the doctor and Jack the teacher. They talked about how they met their spouses; through a mutual friend and through work. Apparently Jack's husband, who is a business man, did a presentation for Jack's seventh grade class about business and jobs in business and that's how they met. They talked about sports; Jack was also a fan of American baseball. They talked about similar interests and uninterests and all-in-all found that they, like their children, had the potential to become very good friends.

They were pouring their third glass of wine each when Ian called from the living room, "Hello, Daddy!"

"That'd be Sherlock." John said, finishing the pouring of his own glass and taking Jack's.

"Hello, Ian. Ahh, you must be Amy?" Sherlock said politely to the little girl. She giggled and John heard Sherlock make a fuss by kissing the girl's hand, then Ian mutter, "Dad, you said-" and then Sherlock assure, "I'm just being polite, Ian."

Sherlock walked into the kitchen on time to see John hand Jack his glass while they laughed about whatever it was they were talking about before Sherlock came in. "'Lo, Sherlock," John said, "Didn't expect you home for a while, darling."

Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's temple. At that moment, Jack looked away and nearly blushed; and of course Sherlock saw it. He saw everything. "Solved the case in record time, John." Sherlock let go of John and directed his attention to Jack, "You must be…" Sherlock said, reaching his hand out to Jack.

"Jack, Jack Harris." He nervously took Sherlock's hand. "Nice to meet you, Sherlock."

"Likewise." Sherlock let Jack's hand go and eyed him suspiciously, but quickly dropped his assumptions and suspicions. He didn't want to embarrass John now, did he?

"Dinner's 'bout ready, love, are you eating?" John asked Sherlock while nudging his elbow into his ribs.

"Yes, I'm starving."

All through dinner, Jack and John made peaceful conversation, laughing almost as loud as the children, while Sherlock sat and observed. He stayed quiet, mostly because he didn't know their references or topics, but partly to observe John while in this nature; this new person that was obviously interested in John and interested in everything John was interested in, apart from Sherlock.

After dinner, about when Ian figured it was time for John to say it was time for Amy to leave, Ian went to John and asked if she could spend the night. John looked at Jack, who didn't know whether to agree or not, then to Sherlock, who looked as if there was no problem in the world.

"Alright." John said, after Jack agreed.

Jack left an hour later after receiving a call from his husband. He hugged Amy goodbye, gently grasped John's hand in a firm handshake, barely made a pass to indicate wanting to shake Sherlock's hand, and left. Some time later, the two kids fell asleep and John and Sherlock sat on the couch alone.

"Should I be expecting a happy announcement soon?" Sherlock questioned as John sat down on the couch and picked up the television remote.

"What are you talking about?"

"You," Sherlock leaned over and turned the television off, "And Jack."

John sighed and turned his body toward Sherlock. "_What_ are you talking about?"

"You two seemed to be hitting it off well, too bad I had to come home and-"

"Stop, just stop. You've got it all wrong. There was nothing, there _is _nothing-"

"Tell me John, when you two run away together will you take the children with you? I'm sure they'll be crushed to be separated if you don't take them, too, take them because their fathers have annoying little crushes on one another." Sherlock angrily hissed the last six words.

"It's not like that, Sherlock."

"No worries, John. The husband and I won't make passes at one another, the tight leash that ass has on Jack makes it impossible for Jack to breath properly. I'll just be alone, and-"

"Ugh, Sherlock, shut up! It was just conversation! You were there, you saw-"

"Yes, I _saw, _I saw everything."

"Tell me, Sherlock, tell me what you saw."

"I certainly saw the way he looked at you. The way he beamed after realizing you two have so much in common and you and I have practically nothing."

"Now, you know you and I have a ton in common, Sherlock. Why do you think I love you so much? And how is that, the way he was 'looking at me'?"

"Like he's never seen a man before. And I don't blame him, look at you. If only he could smell you, you smell like me after I've marked my-"

"I'm not your territory, Sherlock." John said cold and angry now.

Sherlock stood and as he stepped over John to go to their room, he grabbed John's left hand and held it to John's own face, emphasizing his ring finger and the band around the base. "Oh, no." Sherlock said, throwing John's hand back to his lap and walking away.

John's gaze remained where it was until Sherlock closed their door, then John ran his hand over his face and frowned intensely at the floor. "Please, no," John whispered into his palm.

An hour later, John went to bed. Sherlock was already asleep, so instead of disturbing Sherlock with the shower running, John simply changed his pants and shirt and got into bed. He faced Sherlock, but Sherlock faced the door, John reached out for Sherlock, pulling him close and tucking the tall man against his chest. Sherlock's limp body let him, but he was unsure of if Sherlock was even aware of what was happening; that is until Sherlock pulled John's left hand to his lips and kissed his finger, then Sherlock placed John's hand over his own heart.

The next morning, John woke alone. He couldn't hear anything, either, and automatically panic washed over him; that was until he heard children laughing from the kitchen and Sherlock's voice booming through the hallway. Sherlock was being his usual, goofy self and making the kids laugh, and that made John smile.

"Who wants a pancake?" John heard Sherlock ask, then heard both children shout, "Me, me!"

"Ssshh, guys. John's still asleep."

But John was slipping his slippers on and standing from the bed. He opened the door and went down the hall, and when Ian spotted him he shouted, "Morning, Dad!" and Amy shouted, "Morning, Mister John!"

John smiled and glanced at Sherlock, who looked at him with a pleased smile. John told the kids good morning, then went around the table to the stove and placed his hand on the small of Sherlock's back, pressing a light kiss to the taller man's shoulder. "Good morning, Sherlock." John whispered against Sherlock's shoulder.

"Good morning, my John." Sherlock lifted his arm for John to slip under, then placed a kiss to John's forehead. "How did you sleep? Do you want some pancakes?"

John nodded, full knowing that he was assuming the role of cook that morning to make up for the argument the night before; that's how Sherlock apologizes.

Right after lunch, Jack returned to Baker Street to retrieve his daughter. Sherlock tried to be as pleasant as he could be, for the sake of their children, but the way he was looking at John and the way John was taking the bate was slowly driving him mad. John liked the attention, that was apparent to Sherlock.

Jack and John continued their conversations from the night before as if they hadn't had fourteen or fifteen hours between last speaking. To Sherlock's utter dislike, they made plans to play football with Jack's league that weekend. Sherlock sat in the corner and sulked, and after a while he was annoying John so much that John was flirting with Jack intentionally to piss Sherlock off.

When Jack left, Sherlock pulled his coat off the hook and slipped it on. "Ian, get your coat." Sherlock said.

"Where are we going?"

"To the bed store, we're getting a bigger bed." Sherlock dryly said.

"Why?" John questioned.

"Because Ian has free reign to sleep with us whenever he pleases for as long as I please." Sherlock gave John a fake, evil smile and snaked his scarf around his neck.

Ian raced up the stairs to get his coat, and while he was gone, John said, "You know, only _you _could turn something about your son and his friend into me and _my new friend Jack."_

"What? A bed big enough for Gladstone to also sleep with us? Sounds perfect!" Sherlock mocked and pulled Ian out of the flat. John rolled his eyes and slumped against the door.

He didn't know how or what to do next, but this new war was not over.

_***Wrote this ages ago. It's really long, sorry. Enjoy! : )**_


	14. Chapter 14: Heartbreak

Ian mopes into the living room one afternoon after he's been gone only half an hour with Leslie. He was going to take her to the park to spend the afternoon and John is shocked to see him so soon.

"Son? What's the matter?" John asks.

"Nothing, Dad."

"Ian, come sit down. Talk to me. Is it Leslie?"

"Of course it is, Dad," he sits next to John and throws himself against the back of the couch. "Girls ruin _everything_."

"Now, that's not true, they don't ruin _everything._"

"How would you know? You're married to a man. You have a son."

"I've been around plenty of women. Now, tell me what happened."

"She dumped me," when Ian doesn't get a reaction from John, he sits up and continues, "Big shock, right? I'm just _me_ and she's _her. _Of course she wouldn't want to be with me, right?" Ian stands and storms across the room to the stairs.

"Now, wait, Ian! Let me talk to you!"

Ian disappears up the stairs without stopping to greet Sherlock as he comes up the main stairs.

"What's wrong with him?" Sherlock asks.

"Ian's just been dumped."

"Oh, terrible," Sherlock says without any emotion.

"Sherlock! He's upset! And he won't talk to me."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

John stares at him.

"I will not go talk to him."

"Please, Sherlock? He needs one of us, and I've already said the wrong thing. At least he expects it of you."

They have a staring match for a few minutes, and finally Sherlock gives up. "Fine, just this once," he says, then hops up the stairs to Ian's room.

"Ian, can I come in?"

"Fine."

Sherlock goes into the room and stands next to Ian's bed. He doesn't sit and Ian doesn't offer him to sit.

"Dad told you?" Ian asks.

"Yes, he did."

Ian rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says.

"He told me because we're concerned, Ian. First heartbreaks are hard—"

"How would you know?"

Sherlock half smiles, "I know, I know. I'm just your dumb dad, how would I know about relationships and dating and heartbreaks and _women, _right?" Ian doesn't say anything, he doesn't even look at Sherlock. Sherlock continues, "Well, I've never really been heartbroken in your sense, that is true. No girl has ever dumped me, as I assume _she _dumped _you_." Ian nods and Sherlock continues, "But let me tell you, son. Remember when Dad and I told you when I left him? I jumped off that building because Moriarty wanted me dead and the only way to save Dad, the man I love, was to jump. So I did. And I had to leave him for three years, and it was the hardest three years of my life. I was so heartbroken, and I left your father heartbroken as well."

"Yeah, but then you came back and got Dad."

"Actually, when I came back your father was married."

"He…he was?"

"Yes, to a woman named Mary. She and I didn't get along."

"Why? Was she mean?"

"No, she was a pleasant woman. It's just that she thought your father and I were something more, that maybe he was cheating on her behind her back."

"Was he? I mean…were you two—"

"No, no, we didn't get together until much after she divorced him."

"Then why did she divorce him?"

"Because she knew how heartbroken he was because he loved me."

"But you still got him in the end."

"I did."

"But I won't get Leslie in the end."

"Do you love this girl, Ian? Although I believe you are far too young to understand what love is and what being in love means, I know you are more mature than most 16-year-olds and I know you've been going steady with this girl for quite some time now. A year or so, isn't it?"

"First of all, nobody says going steady anymore. Second," Ian pauses and frowns, "I don't know if I love her, Dad. I care about her, and I have a lot of fun with her. But _love _is a big thing. I like her a lot, I know that much."

"Well, Ian, if you want my advice here it is: sometimes if you love someone you have to sacrifice for them. She may not want to be with you, but if it'll make her happy, and you want her to be happy, you have to let her go."

"Is that why you and Dad didn't get together right after you came back?"

"It is. I saw how happy Mary made your father and I knew that if I intervened, I'd be done for. I wanted him to be happy, even if it wasn't with me. And who knows," Sherlock finally sits at the edge of Ian's bed and takes his hand, "Maybe your paths with cross again someday. If it's meant to be, it'll be meant to be."

Ian smiles at Sherlock and hugs him. "Thanks, Dad."

The two hug for a few minutes and don't even notice John come into the room and wrap his arms around them, too. John kisses Ian's head then Sherlock's cheek, and they hug for a few minutes before setting forth to make dinner.

Leslie moves away and Ian loses contact with her. When he's twenty and at university, he calls Sherlock one afternoon very excited.

"Ian, what is it? What's all the excitement?"

"Dad, you'll never guess who I ran into today here at school."

"I don't know, the queen?"

"What? No! I ran into Leslie, Dad!"

"Leslie?"

"Yeah, remember? We went to school together, she moved away. Come on, Dad, you know. She dumped me at Regent's Park!"

"Oh! Now I remember! Wow, Ian. What did I tell you?"

"I know, I know, you were right, as usual! We're having dinner Tuesday. Isn't that great, Dad?"

"Of course! She isn't married, is she?"

"Dad!"

"It's a useful fact to know, Ian."

The two talk for a while before Sherlock hangs up.

"What was that all about?" John asks.

"Ian ran into Leslie at school today."

John thinks for a minute, "Leslie, Leslie…" he gasps and asks, "Regent's Park, Leslie?"

"That's her."

"Good for him!" John says.

Sherlock sits next to John and they start watching TV. After a few minutes, Sherlock says, "I was right, John."

"I know you were, Sherlock."


	15. Chapter 15: Change

Sherlock and John are sitting at the table eating breakfast when the doorbell rings. They look at each other but nobody bothers to get up to answer the door. After a few minutes they hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Finally Mycroft comes into their flat, but of course Sherlock knew it was him all along.  
>"House visit so early in the morning? How kind of you, Mycroft," Sherlock says.<br>"This isn't a personal visit, Sherlock. I've got a job for you."  
>"Of course you do."<br>Mycroft goes over the gist of the case while Sherlock makes faces and rolls his eyes.  
>"Here's the file, don't disappoint me Sherlock."<br>"I can't, Mycroft. Terribly busy."  
>Mycroft looks at John and John shrugs. He knows Sherlock is busy but he didn't think Sherlock would turn a case down.<br>"Busy with what?"  
>"If you must know, we are interviewing for schools for Ian. We have three this week, I can't be distracted."<br>"You know I could help with—"  
>"John has informed me that we must go about doing things the right way."<br>"He's interfering with your work, Sherlock. I told you this would happen."  
>"Yes, and at the time I said he wouldn't but—"<br>"You've changed, Sherlock. This child has changed you, just like I said he could."  
>Sherlock's nostrils flair and he stands to look Mycroft in the eye, his voice raising only slightly, "Yes, I have changed for my son. For the better. I'm not the same and that is what matters!"<br>"The work, Sherlock, you're letting your brain go to waste!"  
>"The things I care about are the things that matter, and at this point Ian comes first. Don't come into my home and tell me I'm ruining my life because I have a son when you're too wrapped up in your own life to care about anyone but yourself!"<br>"I care about you, Sherlock!"  
>John sits back and watches. He knows he should stop them but he's afraid to step between them. After Sherlock yells the last time, he hears crying coming from their bedroom. He gets up to check on Ian and finds Ian sitting up in their bed and crying.<br>"Hey, hey," John says, "What's the matter?"  
>"Daddy's yelling," Ian sniffles, "Scared me."<br>"Come here, it's ok," John takes Ian in his arms and holds him tight.  
>When Ian calms down, John takes him into the living room to use Ian to make the two men stop fighting. They're still yelling but when John walks into the room with Ian crying on his shoulder. Sherlock stops and goes to John. He pats Ian's back, Ian looks up at him and lets go of John and lunges at Sherlock. Sherlock takes him and Ian buries his face in Sherlock's neck.<br>"I think it's time you leave, Mycroft."  
>"I apologize for frightening Ian; I don't apologize for what I said."<br>Sherlock glares and Mycroft leaves. Sherlock sits on the couch with Ian on his lap and continues patting Ian's back and whispering reassuring words. John sits next to him and runs a hand through Sherlock's hair.  
>"Are you ok?" John asks.<br>"Of course."  
>"Do you feel like you've…changed?"<br>"Don't you feel like I've changed?"  
>"Well, yeah," John pauses then asks, "Is it a good change, Sherlock? Or do you regret it?"<br>"I'll never regret it, John. Do you think that?"  
>"Sometimes I feel that way after you turn down a case. I feel like it's my fault, like I forced you."<br>Sherlock leans over and kisses John. "Never think that," he says.  
>John smiles and rests against Sherlock's shoulder, then they both rub Ian's back together.<p> 


	16. Chapter 16: Clapping

"John," Sherlock pauses at he enters the kitchen to stare at John, "What are you doing?"

John continues smiling at Ian and clapping his hands together. Ian does not look amused. "I'm teaching him how to clap."

"He's glaring at you. You are not making him happy."

John continues smiling and clapping. "You always glare at me, but I make you happy, don't I?"

Sherlock smiles, "Well I guess that is true. But clapping is foolish, don't clog his brain with nonsense."

"Clapping is a sign of child development, Sherlock. I realize you're above /clapping, but he needs to learn how to control his movements."

Sherlock sighs, "Proceed."

For a few days John continues with the clapping. He claps for everything and Ian glares each time.

Somewhere over that time, Sherlock gets a case. It's not difficult, just a minor case of robbery. He solves it in a day and a half.

Sherlock storms into the flat as John and Ian are eating lunch.

"Great news, John," Sherlock says as he kisses Ian's head, then John's.

"You solved it?"

"Of course I did!"

John smiles wide and offers Ian more yogurt. "Yaaaay, Daddy!" he says.

Ian claps twice. Sherlock, who already began going on about the case, pauses and says, "Thank you, Ian," then continues. Then he pauses again and he and John state at Ian. "Did he just clap?"

"He sure did! Yaaaay Ian!" John says, hoping Ian will clap again. He doesn't. John looks at Sherlock, then back to Ian. "Yaaay, Daddy!" John says again. Ian claps. "He's only cheering for you, babe," John says.

"Yaaay Daddy!" Sherlock says. Ian claps. Then Sherlock says, "Yaaay Mrs. Hudson!" Ian doesn't clap.

"Yaaay Dad!" John tries. Ian doesn't clap. "Yaaay Daddy!" John tries again. Ian happily claps.

"Well done, John, now he can praise he as much as you do."

"As if you need more praise."

"I'll never have enough," Sherlock goes to the refrigerator. While passing Ian, he says, "Yaaay Daddy!" and Ian claps.


	17. Chapter 17: First Steps

"He's only going to be one, Sherlock. It's ok that he hasn't taken his first steps."

"I was walking at ten months, John."

"Maybe it'd help if you didn't carry him everywhere."

Sherlock sits Ian on the floor. John laughs, "There's a start," he says.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and sits next to Ian. Ian passes him a book and Sherlock reads it to him.

Three days later, John walks in to see Ian and Sherlock sitting at opposite ends of the room, Sherlock holding his arms out and Ian staring blankly at him.

"Come on, son, you can do it."

"He'll do it on his own time, Sherlock."

"He's behind others his age, John. Today at the park, there was a mother with her daughter who was the same age as Ian, and she was walking."

"Girls mature faster than boys."

"Not my boy."

John half smiles. "You can keep encouraging him, that's all you can really do for him."

"Then that's what I'll do. His birthday is next week, I promise he'll be walking by then."

Over the next four days, Ian nearly masters standing on his own. Sherlock's proud when he sees his son pull himself up by the table, then let go to practice keeping his balance. A few times Ian stands without the aid of the table.

On the morning of his first birthday, Ian successfully stands on his own for a few minutes. John stands with his arms out for Ian to walk to him, but Ian doesn't.

"Sorry, Sherlock. Doesn't look like your expectations will be met."

Sherlock sighs, "That's alright. He's trying very hard and that's very good." Sherlock walks over to Ian and pats his head.

Four hours later people are at their flat for Ian's party. John sets a small slice of cake on the coffee table for Ian, but Ian has no interest in it. The wrapping paper from earlier is much more interesting.

Ian grows bored with the paper and looks around for his dads; one is talking to Lestrade near the door and one is by the kitchen entrance silently poking at a piece of cake. Ian looks around more and spots Mrs. Hudson. He smiles at her.

"Want some cake, Ian?" she asks, holding her fork out as an offering.

Ian stands and hesitantly takes a step towards Mrs. Hudson.

"John, John, John," Sherlock frantically repeats.

"I see, Sherlock. Don't startle him, he'll fall."

Sherlock and John stand back and watch as their son successfully takes four steps at Mrs. Hudson and grabs hold of her knee, then opens his mouth wide for a bite of cake. John and Sherlock smile at each other and people take turns patting their backs. Mrs. Hudson runs a hand through Ian's hair and stops her hand at his cheek. He opens his mouth for another bite.

After that bite, he notices his Dad has cake, too, so he turns and takes five steps at John. John gives him two bites before he takes one step at Lestrade, who has nothing to offer, so Ian takes seven steps to Sherlock. Sherlock kneels and wraps one arm around his son and lets Ian poke at his cake. Ian gets a fingertip full of frosting and holds it up for Sherlock to eat. Sherlock hugs Ian and losses his head, and he's absolutely sure he's never been more proud.


	18. Chapter 18: Potty Training

"Shouldn't he be out of diapers by now, John? He's two years and three months old."

John shrugs, "Yeah, we can start to teach him. You know he's not going to pick it up in a day? It'll take him time."

"Nonsense. He is a quick learner. He can do it."

Two weeks later, Sherlock is still having no luck with potty training. Some days he wakes up and sits Ian on the toilet and waits for him to go, but some days he forgets all about it and they don't go over the basics at all. Finally, John witnessed all of this and informed Sherlock that he had to _show _Ian.

"Show him?"

"Yeah. Show him how to go. He's not going to get it if he doesn't know how."

"But…_show _him?"

"Yes, love, take him into the bathroom when you go and he'll get it."

It took five days for Sherlock to work up the courage to show him. He took Ian into the bathroom with him, sat Ian on the sink, and got ready. And couldn't do it.

Sherlock stands on the balls of his feet, hops a bit, tries to go, but can't. "Hang on, son," he says. He hops again, no luck. He glances at Ian, Ian glares at him with a very, very confused look on his face. "Oh, god," Sherlock says, running his hand over his eyes. "John!"

"What? What is it?"

"I can't do it."

"Have you got stage fright?"

"I can just feel him…_looking_ at me."

"Sherlock, he's two. He doesn't know what he's looking at."

"I still can't do it, John."

John sighs and pushes Sherlock over. John stands in front of the toilet, unzips his pants, pees, and zips. John throws his hands in the air and turns to Ian, "See?"

"Daddy pee," Ian says.

"Daddy can't pee because Daddy is a coward," John says while washing his hands.

"I'm not a coward."

"Daddy cow," Ian says.

"I'm not a cow, either."

"Do it then, coward. Show us."

"It's not that easy—"

"It is that easy. Ten seconds. You've peed before."

"Not in front of others."

"What, you've never used a public restroom?"

"Not one with stalls."

"You're ridiculous."

Sherlock tries to leave the bathroom, but John stands in the way. "Not until you go."

Sherlock glares at John, "No."

"I know you have to go."

"Not that badly."

"You're not leaving this room until you go," John turns to Ian, "Ian, when you have to go, you go, ok? The moment you have to go, and if you come in this bathroom you don't leave until you go, alright?"

"Yes, Dad," Ian says. He looks back at Sherlock. "You go, Daddy."

John turns back to Sherlock, stands firmly in front of the door, and crosses his arms. Sherlock huffs and stands in front of the toilet again.

"Daddy pee," Ian says.

Sherlock quickly shushes him.

"Call Daddy a chicken, Ian."

"Ch-ch-chickeeeen," Ian chants. It's something he picked up from an afternoon with Lestrade one day. "Ch-ch-chickeeeen."

Sherlock shushes them again.

Ten minutes later, Sherlock finally pees while Ian claps and cheers for him. John says he'll reward Sherlock with a treat from the candy cabinet. John moves aside for Sherlock to wash his hands, and after that Sherlock storms out of the bathroom. John leans down to Ian's eye level. "Now," he says, "Do you remember everything I told you?" Ian nods. "What did I tell you?"

"Daddy is a coward."

John laughs and hangs his head, then looks back at Ian, "Yes, that is right." He takes Ian in his arms and they go to the living room where Sherlock is sulking with blushed cheeks on the couch.

Ian learns to use a toilet about a month later and after that he is independent of diapers. However, he does continue calling Sherlock a chicken for, oh, about three months.


	19. Chapter 19: Dad's birthday

The date is July 7th and Ian Holmes-Watson is being a very impatient boy. He's been sitting outside his dads' bedroom for about fifteen minutes and ten minutes ago began picking at a small hole in the wall. It's grown three inches since he sat, so he thinks his Dad better hurry up out of bed or they're going to be paying for another patch to be put on the wall.

Sherlock knows he's been sitting there that whole time. Sherlock heard him get out of bed, he heard him rush down the stairs, he heard him try to quiet as he reached the first floor landing, he heard him tiptoe down the hall to his dads' bedroom door. He heard him wait. Sherlock smiles; his son is learning after all. However, he knows better than to keep this five-year-old waiting, so he gets out of bed. Well, he tries to get out of bed. John throws a leg over his husband. Sherlock turns onto his side and kisses John; John falls asleep again. Sherlock leaves the bed.

He walks to the door, takes a deep breath, and opens it.

"What are you doing, I told you I was coming down early, Dad!" Ian starts.

Sherlock shoo's him away from the door and closes it quietly behind him. "I told you that you need to work on patience."

"Dad told you to stop doing that!" Ian shouts.

"Quiet, or you're going back to bed!"

Ian crosses his arms at his chest.

Sherlock asks, "Now. Do you want to start over?"

Ian nods.

Sherlock reaches his arms out to his pouting five-year-old. "Good morning, baby."

"Stop calling me that!" Ian says, not reaching back at Sherlock. Sherlock raises an eyebrow. Ian sighs very loudly. "Morning, Dad." He reaches for Sherlock. Sherlock lifts him and walks him into the kitchen. "Can we start now?" he asks.

"By all means. I was waiting on you."

Ian smacks a hand over his face.

"Patience, my dear," Sherlock says.

"It's too hard. All I want is to make Dad's breakfast and—"

"What is it we're doing now?"

"Well _now _we are. Dad told me he had to teach you patience."

"Yes, and I was a slower learner than you. But look at me now, I'm patient with you, with Dad, with the dog."

"It's so _hard._"

"You're too eager. Now, what do we need first?"

"Uhm, eggs?"

"Why are you questioning me? You're the expert."

"Let me think. Last time Dad made breakfast, he put the bacon on first."

"So?"

"So, I'll get the bacon."

Ian goes to the refrigerator and pulls the bottom freezer compartment. He pulls out a package of bacon and takes them to Sherlock. Sherlock sets six pieces on the stove.

"Next?" he asks.

"Next, uh, how 'bout the eggs?"

"Sure. Do you want to get them or should I?"

"I can do it," Ian impatiently says.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. _That tone, _he thinks. His son will learn. For now it's about breakfast.

Ian gets a chair from the table and uses it to reach the eggs. Well, he grabs two eggs, turns to jump off the chair, and drops the eggs. "Uh-oh," he says.

Sherlock, whose back was turned facing Ian, pauses and breaths. "How many?"

"Just two."

Sherlock turns to Ian. He takes Ian from the chair and sits him on the table, then cleans up the mess.

"Every time you clean, Dad says he should take a picture."

"He does say that."

"Why?"

"It's a joke at how rarely I clean."

Ian thinks for a minute. "Dad has a point."

Sherlock looks at his son. "Do you want to clean this? I'm not above child labor."

"No, it's ok."

Sherlock cleans the rest and takes the remaining four eggs from the refrigerator. He stands over the bowl to crack them.

"Can I?"

Sherlock thinks for a second, then hands one to Ian. Ian cracks it the way his Dad showed him, then barely gets any shell in the yolks.

"We'd better pluck those out," Sherlock says, fingers already in the egg.

"Sorry."

"That's quite alright, you did well."

"Thanks," Ian says, full of pride.

Sherlock gets the eggs on the stove and turns to Ian.

"Next?"

"Toast?"

"Can you get the bread?"

Ian nods and heads for the breadbox. It's right next to the toaster, so Sherlock takes three steps that way and lifts Ian to the countertop. Together they drop the bread in the toaster and wait for it to pop up. While it's warming, Sherlock tends to the eggs. He goes back to the toast after. The first two pop up and they drop in the next.

"Dad?" Ian asks.

"Mmmm?"

"Is something…burning?"

Sherlock looks around. Small puffs of black smoke are rising from the bacon. "Crap!" Sherlock shouts.

"Crap!" Ian shouts.

"Don't," Sherlock warns.

Ian stays where he is and Sherlock takes the pan of bacon and runs it under cold water.

"Shit, shit," Sherlock mutters under his breath. He burned his hand.

"Shit," Ian says.

"Stop!"

"Dad, the eggs!"

Sherlock yells and makes a grab for the eggs, and by then the toast that's in the toaster is burning, too.

"Dad!" Ian shouts.

Sherlock grabs Ian off the counter and sits him at the table, then makes for the toaster. He grabs it (doesn't unplug it) and is about to set it under the running water when he hears, "STOP!" from their bedroom hall. He pauses.

"What the _hell _do you think you're doing?" John asks, turning the water off.

"I, uh…" Sherlock babbles.

"Could've electrocuted yourself, love," John takes the toaster from Sherlock's hands and sits it down, then he grabs Sherlock's shoulders and looks over his face. "Are you ok?"

"Of course I'm ok."

"You burned your hand," Ian says from the table.

"Oh, yes, that, well—"

"Geez, Sherlock, that's quite the burn."

"It's fine."

John lets Sherlock go and gazes around the kitchen. There's towels by the fridge, smoke still coming from the unwet bacon in the sink, an awful burning smell, and Sherlock's burnt hand. "What's going on?" he asks.

"We tried to make you breakfast," Ian says before beginning to cry.

"Hey, hey," John says, taking Ian in his arms and sitting where Ian was sitting. "What's the matter?"

"We…we messed it all up!"

"You didn't mess anything up!"

"Yes we did! We ruined breakfast!"

"You didn't, I promise. I'm just glad you're ok." John tucks Ian's head under his chin.

Sherlock stands back and watches, leaning against the sink. He plays with the burn on his hand. He lets John calm Ian.

"I appreciate the gesture, ok? Thank you for trying."

"You're welcome."

Sherlock clears his throat. "Is there anything else you want to say to Dad?"

Ian looks up at John, tears still in his eyes. He tries to smile. "Happy birthday, Dad."

John smiles at Ian. "Thank you, baby."

Ian rolls his eyes and falls back against John's chest. John reaches a hand at Sherlock, grabs his hand, kisses his burn, and pulls Sherlock to them.

After a minute of sitting around hugging, they get dressed and go out to breakfast. The next year goes better, Ian makes sure of that.


	20. Chapter 20: Daddy's birthday

John wakes up before Sherlock any day, and today he actually meant to. His back is to Sherlock, so he smiles, sideways stretches a bit, and tries to turn over to kiss Sherlock good morning. But he can't because there are tiny feet digging into his back. He gets out of bed and looks down at what he left: Sherlock laying on his back with one arm over his head, the other arm bent and hand resting on Ian's chest, who had his head on Sherlock's stomach and his feet now occupying the space that John was occupying.

John sighs. He wants to take a picture. He doesn't, though, because he has so many pictures of his boys sleeping together that it's getting kind of strange. He smiles.

After a minute he remembers the morning's mission and tries to wake his five-year-old. "Ian," he whispers, "Wake up. We've got to make breakfast."

"Mmm?" Ian asks, slightly opening his eyes.

"Come on, we have to make breakfast."

"What for?"

"For Daddy!"

"Oh," Ian says, sitting up. He rubs his eyes. "Oh!" he says. He stands on the bed and lets John carry him into the kitchen.

"Alright," John sits Ian on the counter. "What are we makin'?"

"Uhm…chocolate chip pancakes!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes! Daddy will love them!"

"That's true, he would. Ok. You get the chocolate chips, I'll get the rest."

Ian climbs up into a cupboard and gets the chocolate chips all the while John gathers the ingredients for the pancakes.

Ian sits on the countertop next to John's work space and watches John. As John measures the powders, he tells Ian what they are and what they're for. "Sugar, it makes things sweet," and "Flour, it gives things body," he says. He picks up an egg and eyes it in his hand. "You want to crack an egg?" he asks Ian. Ian nods. "Alright, here hold this," he gives Ian an egg. "Now, you hold it like this, ok? And you just," John cracks the egg on the side of the bowl. "You just kind of hit it like that and it cracks. You try it, son."

Ian's first egg is cracked all the way through in one hand movement. Egg spills and shell falls everywhere. John laughs, Ian scowls. "Hey, that's ok," John reassures him, "First egg, not too bad. You want to try again?"

Ian takes another egg and cracks it again. The second one isn't as messy as the first, but of course yolk spills and shells fall in the batter. He scowls again.

"It's ok, it's ok. You can try again in a sec. when I make another batch."

Ian watches John stir the batter. He eyes the chocolate chips. John stirs more. It's a liquid now and Ian's growing anxious about the chocolate chips. Finally he grabs for them and rips the bag open. "Now, now?" he asks.

"Fine, fine, yes go ahead."

Ian applies an ample amount of chocolate chips to the batter. John has to stop him and says if there's too much chocolate it won't taste right. Ian smiles at his creation.

"Here, you stir." John hands Ian the giant spoon he's been stirring with. Ian stirs and finds in quick seconds that the batter is very thick. He tries his best. John laughs. "Well done, son. Here I'll do the rest." John takes the spoon and stirs the large amount of chocolate chips into the batter.

Finally it's finished and John drops a large circle of batter onto the griddle. He drops two because there's room.

"What now?" Ian asks.

"We wait."

"For how long?"

"Until the pancake can be flipped."

They wait. And wait. Ian thinks it's eternity but it's only a few minutes before John flips it. Ian watches in awe as John flips it and pushes it down, letting the heat sizzle at the batter.

"Wow, it's a pancake now." Ian says.

John laughs. "What was it before?"

"It was soup."

John laughs again. "You're silly," he says.

"You're silly, Dad," Ian plunges a hand into John's side and attempts to tickle him. John pulls away and pokes Ian in the chest with his spatula. Ian laughs.

They play around until John needs to flip the pancakes. He lets them sit for a second more, then takes them off the griddle and sets them on a plate.

"How many do you think Daddy should have?"

"Three?"

"Ok, we can make him one more big one, then I'll make you a few little ones. How's that sound?"

"What about you?"

"Oh, I'm too old for chocolate chip pancakes."

"You can never be too old for chocolate chip pancakes!"

"I think I'll just stick with the coffee."

"You have to eat!"

John thinks. He is hungry. He looks at the eggs. "You want to make me some eggs?"

Ian nods. John gets a bowl from the cabinet and lets Ian practice cracking them. He does better and gets less frustrated. John finishes Ian and Sherlock's pancakes and quickly makes his eggs, and once they're done they put it all on a tray and take it into John and Sherlock's room.

Ian jumps onto the bed before John reaches the door. He jumps on Sherlock. Sherlock rolls onto his back and grabs hold on Ian's ankle.

"Hey, hey!" Sherlock says. "What's the meaning of this?"

"Wake up, Daddy! We made breakfast!"

"You did?" Sherlock sits up against the headboard and rubs his eyes. "What for?"

Ian gets right in his face and John sits on the edge of the bed. "For your birthday, Daddy!" Ian shouts.

"For my birthday? What are you talking about?"

"I know today's your birthday!"

"How do you know that?"

"Everyone told me!"

"Everyone who? Don't they know I don't have birthdays?"

"Of course you have birthdays, Daddy! Everyone does!"

"Oh, yeah? Even Dad?"

"Of course!" Ian laughs. "You're being silly, too, Daddy."

Sherlock takes Ian on his lap and tickles him. Ian screams out in laughter and Sherlock and John laugh with him. After a few minutes they stop because Sherlock can smell the chocolate chips and his stomach growls very loudly.

Sherlock and John sit against the headboard and Ian sits across facing them. They eat and talk about cracking eggs and birthdays. They makes plans for the day and when they finish eating, Ian races upstairs to get Sherlock's gift.

John turns to Sherlock and says, "Happy birthday, sweetheart."

Sherlock smiles. "Thank you, John. Thank you for breakfast."

"You're welcome. We'd better get up soon, our son has big plans for the day."

Sherlock smiles again. John leans over and kisses him. Just then, Ian comes back into the room. "Ewwwww!" he shouts. He jumps onto the bed and jumps on John's lap, pulling his dads apart. They get up and get ready for the day, which all turns out great, of course.

**_*Thank you _Anapples _for suggesting the birthday breakfasts. It was a great story to share : )_**


	21. Chapter 21: Library

Sherlock, as a genius (you know?), has to go to the library fairly often. Most days he is able to drop Ian off downstairs with Mrs. Hudson while he goes out, but some days Mrs. Hudson leaves so Sherlock has to take Ian places.

Today Sherlock _needs _to go to the library. It's very vital to an experiment he's doing. He calls John to ask John to come home to keep Ian because Mrs. Hudson had to go to her sister's for the afternoon.

"Your experiment can wait, Sherlock," John says over the phone.

"I _need _to get this done today."

"Then take him with you."

Sherlock is silent for a long time.

"Sherlock?"

"I can't take him with me."

"Why not?"

"Because…"

"Oh, ok," John says, "You don't want to have to worry about him."

"Now don't say it like that, John. That makes me sound horrible."

"You are horrible. He's three, Sherlock. Get him a book, sit him down, it'll be fine. He'll follow you wherever you move."

"What if he begins following someone else?"

"You mean what if someone takes him?"

"Yes."

"Sherlock, listen to me honey. He's fine. You won't lose him. Take him with you. Take some snacks. Don't forget his scarf."

Sherlock sighs and says ok, then hangs up.

They have a small backpack that's Ian's size that they pack when they take him out somewhere. He packs the bag with crackers, little yogurt bites that Ian likes, and a sippy-cup of water, plus the usual stuff like tissues, bandaids, allergy relief syrup, pain reliever. He puts Ian in his shoes, coat, and scarf, puts the backpack on him, and they head out the door.

They get to the library and Sherlock heads to the kids' section. He picks three books off the shelf, lets Ian pick which one he wants to look at, then takes Ian to the science books.

"Sit right there, son. Ok? Here's your book," Sherlock says, handing Ian his book. Ian sits and shrugs off the bag, then opens his book.

Then he starts to hum. Ian has a tune he hums when he's lost in his own head. Sherlock and John think it's the cutest thing.

Well, except now.

Sherlock's trying to think. He is doing research. He is working. And Ian's humming is very distracting. He glances down at Ian and Ian's not even paying attention to anything Sherlock's doing. Sherlock kneels in front of Ian and Ian finally looks up. He's still humming.

"Ian, can you stop humming and listen to me for a minute?"

Ian nods but doesn't stop humming.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Ian, stop humming please."

He stops.

"Daddy is trying very, very hard to concentrate. Daddy really needs this research done today. Do you think you can keep quiet so I can concentrate? It's just that when you're using your beautiful little voice, I want to listen to you and I stop concentrating. So, do you think you can keep quiet?"

Ian nods. "Yes, Daddy. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, my baby, I love when you sing. Just not right now, ok, Ian?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Ok." Sherlock kisses Ian's head and gets up to continue his research.

Five minutes later, Sherlock hears Ian rummaging around his backpack. Sherlock glances over to him and Ian has a very angry face while pulling everything out of the bag. Sherlock goes over to him and kneels next to him.

"What are you doing?"

"I want a cookie," Ian says.

"I didn't pack cookies. Here," Sherlock picks up the crackers, "Have some crackers."

"I don't want crackers."

"Will you level with me, please? Crackers or yogurt. I didn't brink cookies."

"I want a cookie," Ian pouts and crosses his arms at his chest.

Sherlock rubs his face. "Listen, when we go home I'll get you a big cookie, ok? You know the ones at the shop down the street? The ones Dad never buys? I'll get you one, ok?"

Ian still pouts. "Ok."

Sherlock stands and resumes his searching. It's quiet but for the sound of Ian slurping his water. Sherlock knows he can't possibly drink water for any lengthy amount of time, so he doesn't ask Ian to quiet or to stop. Finally Ian stops, then he starts munching away at the crackers.

Sherlock looks down at him. "Ian, can you eat quieter?"

Ian shrugs but doesn't look at Sherlock, he just keeps looking through his book.

Five minutes later, Ian sighs very loudly and looks at Sherlock. Sherlock's reading and not paying attention to anything else.

"Daddy," Ian says. Sherlock doesn't answer. "Daddy?" Sherlock still doesn't reply. "Daddy?" Still nothing. "DaddyDaddyDaddyDaddyDaddy!" Ian shouts.

Sherlock looks down at him. "What?" he shouts back.

"I finished my book," Ian says in a tiny, innocent voice.

"So?"

"I want another."

"Can you wait a minute?"

Ian shakes his head no.

"Just hold on, ok?" Sherlock goes back to reading.

"Please?" Ian asks.

"Hang on," Sherlock doesn't look up.

Ian's quiet for maybe three seconds before he shouts, "Daaaaaaaaaaad!"

"Ssssssh!" the random librarian shouts back in the next isle.

"What?" Sherlock shouts, slamming his book shut and losing his spot.

"I. Want. Another. Book!" Ian shouts.

"Ssshh, stop! Stop shouting!" Sherlock shout-whispers.

"Get me a book!" Ian shout-whispers back.

Sherlock closes his eyes and covers his face with his hand. He breaths deep. He counts. He feels Ian patting his thigh. He opens his eyes, looks down.

"Ok. Quick, seriously, very quickly."

They leave the backpack and Sherlock's book in the isle and practically run over to the kids' section. He picks up three books and lets Ian choose. Ian takes _forever _picking so Sherlock takes all three. He pulls Ian along to their isle, sits him down, and gets back to work.

"Dad?" Ian asks after a few minutes of silence.

"What?"

"Will you read this to me?"

"No, I'm very busy."

"Please, Daddy?"

"No."

Ian pouts. Every few minutes he huffs or sighs very loudly to get Sherlock's attention.

"No," Sherlock says.

Ian throws a book at Sherlock.

"Did you just throw this at me?"

"Please read it!" Ian says.

"Stop, Ian. Not right now."

Ian begins to cry.

"Stop it! Ok, please stop, Ian. Ok, ok look, I'm sitting down. I'll read it."

Ian crawls over to Sherlock and sits on his lap.

"Please don't cry, ok? I'll read it," Sherlock opens the book and reads.

They finish the book in five minutes and Sherlock momentarily forgets about his books because Ian sitting against his chest and hearing Ian's laughter is making the world stop.

"Again?" Ian asks. He looks up at Sherlock, his eyes looking sad.

Sherlock looks down at him with equally sad eyes. "Not right now, sweetie. Let me finish my work, ok?"

Ian frowns and climbs off Sherlock's lap. He goes to his area and Sherlock goes back to work.

The other two books last ten minutes.

"Daddaddaddaddad," Ian babbles.

"What?"

"Can we go home now?"

"No."

"Dad might be home."

"I'm not finished."

Ian stands and runs out of the isle. Of course he's three with short legs, but he gets quite the head start before Sherlock gets his bearings and follows him.

He chases Ian through three isles, and when he turns into the fourth isle, the librarian is standing there holding Ian up.

"Is this yours?" she asks.

"YesthankyouI'msorry," Sherlock says in one breath. He takes Ian back to their isle.

"Alright, we're leaving. Help me clean this stuff up." Sherlock kneels and begins putting stuff back in Ian's bag. Sherlock checks out the three books he needs and they quickly leave.

The ride home is silent. Sherlock stares out the window and Ian stares at him.

"Daddy?" Ian says as they turn onto Baker Street.

"Yes, son?"

They've been working on Ian's apologies and Sherlock thinks maybe he's going to apologize.

Instead, Ian says: "We just passed the cookie shop."

Sherlock shuts his eyes and counts again. That'd be a line that John would laugh at but Sherlock is very flustered. He sighs and opens his eyes on time to see 221B and John trying to get into it.

Sherlock pays the cab driver and gets out of the car, pulling Ian along.

"John," Sherlock says.

"Oh, hey my loves I didn't see you two there."

Sherlock gives John Ian's hand, gives John his bag, Ian's two library books, and says, "Your son has been driving me crazy all afternoon, take him down the street and get him a cookie."

"Was he being disobedient? What was he doing?"

"He…was…he was just…" of course Ian wasn't being bad, he wasn't doing anything. Sherlock knows he wasn't doing anything wrong so he doesn't tell John he was. "Just keep him out of the flat for an hour, please."

"Well if he was being bad, why am I getting him a cookie?"

Sherlock unlocks the door and steps inside. "Jesus, John, just get the kid a damn cookie." He shuts the door before John can ask any more questions.

John looks down at his son. "What's his problem?" John asks.

Ian shrugs.

Later when John and Ian get home, Sherlock's finished with his work so he plays with Ian for the rest of the evening because he knows he's the one that had an attitude all afternoon.


	22. Chapter 22: Updates

Sometimes John and Sherlock are far too caseless for far too long. And of course they get bored. Ian consumes most of their time, which is fantastic, but sometimes things just get _far _too boring.

So without cases to write about in the blog, John updates about Ian. Short updates, without a lot to say he's at a loss of words.

**Entry February 10: The Case of the Sticky Fingers **

_Today Ian discovered his love for sticky foods; strawberries, jam, maple syrup. Yes, all in the same day thanks to his father (the other one). There are fingerprints everywhere._

**Comments:**

**From: Martha Hudson**

_I was wondering why there was jam on your laptop screen, Sherlock._

**From: Sherlock Holmes**

_Why are you opening my laptop, Mrs. Hudson?_

**Entry February 12: ****The Case of the Missing Socks **

_All of Ian's socks are missing. Sherlock's on the case._

**Comments: **

**From: Sherlock Holmes**

_Wonderful, you've written up that our son lost all of his socks._

**Entry February 14: The Case of the Icky Belly **

_This afternoon we had a mystery regarding Ian's sick belly. It took me (yes, I solved it this time) two hours of belly rubbing to figure out that he ate all of the chocolates I bought Sherlock for Valentine's Day. Actually I had to rub two bellies because Sherlock had sympathy pains._

**Comments: **

**From: Harry Watson**

_Sounds like you've got two babies, John._

**From: Sherlock Holmes**

_Sod off, Harry._

**From: John Watson**

_Hey, you two. This is a family friendly blog._

**From: Greg Lestrade**

_It's not that I'm not interested in your lives, guys, but why the boring updates?_

**From: Sherlock Holmes**

_BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORED._

**Entry February 15: Follow up to the Case of the Missing Socks **

_They all ended up downstairs at Mrs. Hudson's. Crisis averted. _

**Comments:**

**From: Sherlock Holmes**

_She could have told us three days ago. _

**From: John Watson**

_You are the one that didn't bother checking downstairs._

**From: Sherlock Holmes**

_How was I supposed to know he goes downstairs and takes his shoes and socks off?_

**From: Harry Watson**

_Fight, fight!_

**Entry February 17: The Case of the Lost Spider**

___Sherlock has left Ian's toy spider at the park. Ian is very upset but is coming around to his new stuffed shark Daddy bought him at the Zoo today._

**From: Sherlock Holmes**

_It was an accident._

**From: Greg Lestrade**

_Christ, you two are bored._

Luckily they get a case that night and one a few days after, so John's blog takes a pause in Ian updates for a while. Not that anyone really minds all that much.


	23. Chapter 23: The Process

Having Ian was not all that easy until Amy took the pregnancy test in the Yard's restroom (explanation to come). It was a long process.

They wanted Mycroft's help because he would know what to do, right? Mycroft did have all the answers. He got them to the top of the surrogacy lists of adoption agencies and got the information on all of the women that could carry his brother's baby.

For months they looked through women to find the one. Sometimes John didn't like the way it was, he felt like he was buying a woman to reproduce with, like 'the-old-days', but that was exactly what it was.

They didn't tell anybody except Mycroft that they were going through this process. They didn't want any attention for something so private and they didn't want to jinx their luck. They wanted to find her and have their baby and live in their own world, so that's what they did.

A while before they found the right woman, they both went to a doctor to find out if they could both _have _children. Everything in the physical check ups went well, but once it came time to test their sperm, Sherlock began to freak out.

He called John from his exam room.

"Sherlock? What's wrong?"

"I can't do this, John."

"Do what, Sherlock? Have a baby?" John sounded worried.

"No, no. We're going to have a baby but I want it to be yours. I don't want to do the tests."

"Why? Sherlock, what's going on?"

Sherlock heard a knock on his door. He told John to hang on a second, then answered the door. On the other side was John. As soon as Sherlock had the door open, John attacked him with a hug. They went inside the room.

"What's wrong, love?" John asked against Sherlock's shirt collar.

"I just can't do this. I don't want this baby to be mine."

"It _will _be your baby, Sherlock, even if it's not biologically you'll adopt it and –"

"No, I don't want the option. I'm not doing this test, I'm not contributing when we find the surrogate. It'll be yours."

"Why, Sherlock?"

"A child with my genetics will be miserable."

"That's not true."

"Why do you say that? He, or she, will be cold and heartless and too smart for her own good and depressed and drugs and—"

"Sherlock, stop," John pressed his hand over Sherlock's mouth. "If our baby is yours, he or she will be smart, so deadly smart and you can teach him how to use his brain. And she'll be incredibly beautiful, so beautiful. And one day she'll bring a boy home and you'll threaten him to be good to her because she'll be the most special person in your life. And our child will be so caring, like you. I know you say you don't care but I know you do, Sherlock. And from you, our child will be so loved. You'll love him or her so much, won't you? I think one day you'll regret not giving yours for the option—"

"I'd never regret raising your child, John."

"I know, Sherlock, but I will. I don't know if I'd ever forgive you for not having the option. Because as much as I'll be happy with _anyone's _baby, I'll be happy with _your _baby."

"Why?"

"Because I love you," John pulls a hair out of Sherlock's eyes, "And I want another little you running around."

"Why would you want a child like me?"

John sighed. "Do you want me to list again?"

Sherlock smiled. "No, you don't have to. As long as you're absolutely sure, John."

"I am."

"Ok, I'll do it."

John smiled. "Ok, I'm going to go back to my room now."

Sherlock groaned. "Can't we just do it in here, together? I'm nervous?"

John laughed. "I think they frown upon people actually having sex in this place."

So they parted and weeks later got the results that they are both healthy males that can have a baby. In celebration and eagerness, they viewed over one hundred surrogate profiles and drank two bottles of wine. They put their top ten in a pile on the kitchen table, wrote a note for themselves, and went on celebrating. The next morning they double checked the profiles to make sure good decisions were made and when they were they sent the profiles to Mycroft.

A week later Mycroft and Sherlock ended the search with the perfect woman. She was smart, according to her profile she graduated with honors from New York University, but now she lived in London. She had the same physical features as John, which is what Sherlock very much wanted. She had no medical history of problems and none in her family. They were pleased with their decision.

It took two months to finalize paperwork and have Amy agree. After that they met her and hit it off right away. She, like John, was amazed by Sherlock and seemed to instantly fall in love. John thought that was good because he didn't want their surrogate to think he was a dick.

Finally, after a few months of being acquainted, the men deposited their seed, it was mixed together (basically) and put into Amy. Everyone involved was very excited and very eager. Even Mycroft was all smiles.

They told Amy she'd have to wait for results, of course conception isn't instant. They waited around and didn't get their hopes up too high, but three weeks after being at the doctor's, Amy took bought a pregnancy test and went to John and Sherlock's house.

Unfortunately, they were at the Yard finishing up a case.

"Is this a bad time, or—"

"No, Amy, of course not. Sherlock's a bit busy but I'm good. We shouldn't be here too long."

"Oh, great."

They waited for Sherlock, but Amy grew impatient. She excused herself to the restroom and took the test. When she came out of the restroom she went to where John was.

He looked at her and frowned. She looked flushed, maybe ill. "Amy, are you all right?"

"What? Yes, I'm fine."

Suddenly they heard shouting from Lestrade's office. John rushed in with Amy a few steps behind him.

"Hey, hey! What's going on?" John shouted.

"Please take your husband home before I punch him, John!" Greg yelled.

"Sherlock what did you—"

"I didn't do anything, John, it's this idiot that can't—"

Sherlock cut himself off because he looked at Amy and she was crying. "Amy? What's the matter?"

Amy looked at Sherlock, then John, then at everyone in the room, and said, "I'm pregnant."

Sherlock's face flushed and he looked at Amy. "What? Are you sure?"

"Amy," John said, "Why didn't you tell me!"

"I just…I just took a test in the restroom right now…and it's positive."

Sally looked at each man then Amy. "Who is this?"

John embraced Amy. "This is our surrogate."

Lestrade looked confused. "So this is…and your baby…"

"Do keep up, Lestrade," Sherlock said, joining John and Amy in a hug.

Then everybody congratulated John and Sherlock and Amy. They went home and let Mycroft know, then they celebrated with tea. They were very, very excited.

Two months later they went to Sherlock's mother's house to tell her. The three of them, John, Sherlock, Sherlock's mother, sat at the table eating lunch.

"Not that I don't appreciate the visit, dear," Marie started, "But what's the occasion?"

"Well Mother, I believe I have some news you'll be happy about."

"What is it, then?"

Sherlock looked at John so he could tell her.

"Well, ma'am, uhm…Sherlock and I are having a baby."

She looked very confused at first. "What? How?"

"We met a woman," Sherlock started, "She was involved in the agency we went through. And she is our surrogate."

"So…whose…"

"We don't know, yet. I suppose we'll find out when the baby comes out, won't we?"

"Oh, Sherlock!" Marie exclaimed, "Can't you imagine," she looked at John," A little boy with John's shaggy blonde hair?" She looked at Sherlock, "Or a little girl, John, with Sherlock's beautiful black curls?"

"Why would a girl have my features?" Sherlock asked.

They laughed.

"Well, Mother? How do you feel about that?"

"How do I feel? I love it! I'm ecstatic!"

Sherlock smiled and she kissed his cheek, then John's.

After that they spend a lot of time with Amy, then Ian is born and there's no question as to whose son he is biologically. And Amy leaves, but six years later she meets Ian. And the stories of Ian and his daddies continue.


	24. Chapter 24: Cases

For Ian's first few years, Sherlock didn't really like leaving him with Mrs. Hudson to babysit. He liked to have the baby with him always, that way he knew Ian was safe. As a new parent, he was very, very cautious of everything that had to do with his son.

Then he learned that Ian was very, very useful. It was by accident, of course, that he realized this. It started at an emergency crime scene. John wasn't home and he didn't want to leave Ian with Mrs. Hudson, he took Ian along. John bought this strange material-thingy that wrapped the baby to their chests or backs. It was more comfortable and extremely convenient because Sherlock didn't like strollers. So he wrapped Ian to his chest and went to the scene.

Immediately Sherlock was finding clues and leads, but he didn't have time to take Ian home before going to interview a suspect. And there was no way in hell Ian was going to be left with any member of the Yard. So he took Ian with him to track the guy down and get the dirt he needed.

The guy worked at a department store, which Sherlock found fortunate. If he was going to be in danger (talking to a suspect is dangerous) he would rather it be in public. So he found the guy and managed to get him chatting. What Sherlock found interesting was the guy had almost no problem talking to Sherlock, and that was new. Sherlock wondered what it was about him that changed this time; was he being more kind? was this guy an idiot? Finally it dawned on him: he was holding a baby. People love babies, people trust other people with babies.

After that it became a necessity to have Ian with him when he was going to find a suspect or do surveillance or talk to witnesses. Babies? Far better than Little Old Ladies. People, most especially women, _love _babies. And a good looking man with a baby? Sherlock's never had so much luck and ease solving cases in his life.

Actually, having Ian with him all the time got Sherlock so much more attention than he'd ever gotten. He saw how easy it was for people to approach him to say, "Awwww, your baby is so cute!" or something similar. In addition, Sherlock had never been asked out so many times in his life, by both men and women. He never wore a wedding ring and was never specific about details of his life with strangers, so they just assumed he was a single father with a newborn, perhaps with a tough breakup right behind him or he's grieving over his partner's death (people can come up with the most strange explanations for other people), so people would ask him out all the time, any time. Sherlock once got asked out by a man while in a public loo while changing Ian's diaper. That was the craziest one.

John didn't really like when Sherlock would take Ian along, especially while talking to suspects. He didn't like that Sherlock put the baby in danger, but Sherlock assured him that every time he took Ian out, they were safe. Sometimes Sherlock even let John take Ian to interview people. John liked it, too, because John liked attention. Sometimes John would be chatting up a nice lady about his baby and Sherlock would enjoy coming out of nowhere and ruining John's fun. But they always got the information they needed, no matter what.

After a while Sherlock had to stop talking Ian along because Ian learned to talk and would talk about the case he'd just heard from his Uncle Greg. For a while Sherlock learned to avoid Ian talking by giving Ian a lollipop or a different snack while he interviewed someone, but every once in a while it wouldn't work and Ian would be a chatter box.

Finally Sherlock stopped talking Ian to do case work and he had to go about doing things the hard way, using disguises and alter-ego's. And he'd miss having Ian with him all the time when Ian would stay at Mrs. Hudson's. But the reminder to get back to his son always made him work quicker, and somewhat more efficiently.

**_*So I got a little bored yesterday, so I began to draw Sherlock and John with baby Ian. They're not good, I'm not a good artist, but they get the point across. Here's a ling to my first one: _ sfgiants-28 . tumblr post/ 26135 070847/ so-i-got -really- bored-earlier- and-i-was-having _don't forget to remove the spaces. : ) _**


	25. Chapter 25: Sleep

"Sherlock."

John's voice is stern, and for a moment Sherlock thinks about not getting off the couch and going upstairs. Sherlock hadn't even _moved, _he just thought about moving and John still stopped him. Sherlock sits and doesn't move.

John pushes deeper into the couch and gets more comfortable. He pulls Sherlock against him but Sherlock is tense. John wraps the arm Sherlock's leaning on around Sherlock's shoulders.

A few minutes later, Sherlock actually does move to get off the couch.

"I can't John, I just can't."

"You can, and you will."

Sherlock sits up, John grabs his hand.

"Sherlock Holmes you will sit here and let your son cry until he puts himself to sleep, do you hear me?"

Sherlock pauses and huffs at John. "I can't just leave him there, John. He is crying."

"Babies cry, love. That's what they do. Soon he will cry himself to sleep, like I said, and we'll resume our evening in quiet."

"It'll be quiet if I just go get him."

"It'll be quiet when you leave him alone."

"What if he's in danger, John?"

"I think we'd know if he was in danger."

Sherlock takes a deep breath and leans against John again.

"Thank you," John says. Sherlock huffs again.

A few minutes later Ian is still crying and not sleeping. Sherlock finally has enough and bolts upright and stands before John can stop him.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock practically runs to the door and heads upstairs. He opens Ian's bedroom door before John's even off the couch. Sherlock takes the crying one-and-a-half year old into his arms.

"There, there, my son," Sherlock whispers, petting the baby's head and rocking gently. "I'm here, it's ok."

"Sherlock!" John hisses as he reaches Ian's bedroom.

"Ssshh!" Sherlock shushes John. "He's falling asleep."

"Damnit, Sherlock. This is exactly what we can't do. He'll grow too dependant and need you to go to sleep at night."

"I have no problem with that."

"What if you're out, huh? What if you're out on a case or something?"

"Nothing is as important."

John sighs and rubs his hand over his face. He knows Sherlock would drop everything if it meant having to put Ian to sleep, but he dreads the day when Sherlock chooses a case over Ian. "Ok, love. Alright tonight. But tomorrow you can't do this."

"Ok, John," Sherlock says, but he's not listening. He's listening to the steady breathes of his sleeping son.


	26. Chapter 26: Wake up

John always leaves before Sherlock's even awake. They were lucky when Ian got older and slept until well after John left for work, so Sherlock got to sleep in instead of be up with the baby. Not that he'd mind or anything. 

Today John left early and made a ton of noise while getting ready, so as soon as he left, Ian woke up. 

"Daddy?" Sherlock heard right next to his head. 

"Mmmm," Sherlock grumbled. 

"Daddy?" Ian whispered again. 

"What?" Sherlock impatiently snapped. 

Ian doesn't answer and Sherlock thinks he left, but soon after Sherlock heard,

"Daddy?" 

"What?" Sherlock yelled this time. 

"Will you play with me?" Ian asked in the tiniest voice he could muster. 

"Jooooohn!" Sherlock bellowed.

"He left," Ian replied. 

"Go away then." 

"Dad told you to stop telling me to—" 

"Jooooooooohn!" Sherlock shouted again. 

"I told you he left." 

"Go eat something or something." 

"I can't open the fridge." 

"Why not?" 

"I only weigh thirty-six pounds." 

"Joooooohn!" 

"He's gone, Daddy." 

"Humf," Sherlock humf's and opens his eyes. Ian's standing staring at him, his long black hair in his bright blue eyes. "Damnit," Sherlock says and gets out of bed. 

He slaps on a nicotine patch and follows Ian to the kitchen. 

"What do you want?" he asks. 

"Oatmeal." 

Sherlock makes oatmeal and Ian eats nearly all of it. After, Ian leads Sherlock back to Sherlock's bed and turns the TV on cartoons. Ian hops around while Sherlock checks his email and blog. 

After a while, Ian lies on the bed and slowly falls asleep. Sherlock finally notices after twenty minutes, and he can't get Ian to wake up. Sherlock looks at the patch on his arm; even one has his energy level up. He knows he can't go back to sleep if his life depended on it. 

"Damnit!" he says, pulling at his curls. He sits and waits for Ian to wake up, which is two hours later.


	27. Chapter 27: Suspended

"Ian? Come on, get up." John walks over to his son's bed and pushes on Ian's shoulder.

"Whyyyy?" Ian whines.

John wanders Ian's room and picks up abandoned laundry. "You have work to do, remember? You promised Uncle Greg you'd—"

"Can't I do it tomorrow?" Ian turns over in his bed away from John. "I'm tired."

"This isn't a holiday, Ian. It's nobody's fault but yours that you—"

"It's not my fault nobody has a sense of humor—"

"—It's not anybody's fault that you _glued every doorknob of your school shut. _Yes, I promised I'd stop lecturing you, but you need to realize that you're lucky you didn't get arrested and we didn't have to pay any fines, young man. This sets back all that your uncle's owed Dad and I over the past sixteen years. Now get your arse out of bed and get dressed. Greg's expecting you."

Ian growls, actually growls, and gets out of bed. John leaves the room and Ian's dressed in less than five minutes. He goes downstairs after that.

"Morning, son!" Sherlock says, cheery as can be.

Ian growls again.

"Lovely morning, isn't it?" Sherlock asks.

Ian growls and throws himself onto a chair at the kitchen table.

"What do you want for breakfast?" John asks.

"I don't want anything," Ian replies, throwing his head onto the table.

"Sorry, not an option."

Ian looks up and motions to Sherlock. "Is he eating?" he asks John.

John looks at Sherlock; Sherlock discreetly shakes his head. John gives him 'the look' and says, "Yes, your father is having eggs and toast."

Ian groans and rests his head against the table again.

Minutes later, John has two plates of eggs and toast ready. He nudges Ian's head with his elbow. "Come on, sit up. Food time."

"It's just transport," Ian says, sitting up.

"Whoever told you that," John says, shoving a plate in front of Sherlock, "Is an idiot."

Ian smirks at Sherlock and Sherlock glares at John.

Ian angrily cuts into his eggs and pouts while John and Sherlock resume conversation. Ian waits for a pause before he asks, "So what does Uncle Greg need me to do today?"

"You know," John says, "Clean up the park, paint something—"

"Ughhhh," Ian groans, "Community service? Really?"

"Ian, you broke the law. You committed a crime—"

"Nobody was in danger! It was the middle of the night, nobody was even there!"

"You broke into a school. You glued _every _doorknob shut. Somehow you were the only one caught and you won't tell who your accomplices are. By the way, son, sucky friends, really. Was it that damn Charlie—"

"No it wasn't, and as I've told you a thousand times I'm not ratting them out!"

"You broke the law Ian. You're going with Greg to do anything he says for the next four days or you'll really be in trouble," John pauses and looks at Sherlock, who has silently been sitting there during this entire conversation. "Have you got anything to add?"

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Great," John says, standing and taking Ian and Sherlock's plates. "Do you want me to take you to the Yard or can I trust you to get yourself there?"

Ian angrily stands and pulls his jacket from his chair. "I can get there myself." He throws his jacket on and leaves the room.

"I will know if you don't get there, Ian!" John shouts after him.

Ian takes the tube to meet Greg. He doesn't think about not going, he knows the consequences would be great if he didn't go. He gets to Greg's office and goes in after knocking once. Greg's on the phone so he motions for Ian to sit.

Finally he hangs up. "Ian!" he greets the boy.

"Good morning," Ian replies.

"How are you this fine morning?"

Ian smiles and rubs his face. "You sound like my dad."

"Not the crazy one, I hope."

"Yes, that's the one," Ian laughs. "What've you got for me?"

Greg seems to be the only one that thinks what Ian did was funny. Sure he's a cop and all but he sees that Ian and his pals were just pulling a little prank. No harm was done and Greg's sure Ian's gotten more shit from John than the boy could get from the police, so Greg takes it easy on him. He spends about an hour sending Ian on random runs through the office; 'Go get a file from here, get me a cup of coffee'. After that Greg gets a call so he takes Ian along. Why not?

"Will my father be there?" Ian asks, weary that he hasn't really done anything.

"No, shouldn't be. Unless your uncle called him."

"What does my uncle have to do with this?"

"He made the call."

They go to the scene and yes, Mycroft called Sherlock. Ian tries to stay out of site, but Sherlock spots him in the middle of a rant to Lestrade. Sherlock doesn't end his rant, though, he plows through and once he's finished he excuses himself to Ian.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asks.

"I'm riding along with Uncle Greg," Ian shifts uncomfortably. "Are you going to tell Dad?"

Sherlock takes a deep breath. "No, I won't."

"Are you going to blackmail me like he seems to be?"

"He's not blackmailing you, son, he's concerned."

"Concerned? About what?"

"He thinks you're going down the wrong path. These friends of yours—"

"I'm not going down any path, Dad, I just…" Ian thinks for a minute. "I don't know, I wanted to do something to—"

"To stand out?"

Ian looks at Sherlock through his thick eyelashes. He puckers his lips the way John does. "Yeah, I guess. I didn't want to get in trouble, I just wanted to do something."

"I know, that's why I'm not angry. I know you didn't mean to do any harm, even though you did. I'm not angry, I could be more disappointed, and I don't want you to do anything again. Greg may not be so lenient next time."

"Don't worry Dad, there won't be a next time."

"Good," Sherlock quickly hugs Ian.

"I hate to break up this little family…thing…" Greg motions between them, "But I need you upstairs, Sherlock."

Sherlock clears his throat and slips back into detective mode. "The fingerprints on the handrail indicates…" Ian loses track of what he says as he disappears into the house.

By the time Sherlock's ready to go, he takes Ian with him. He tells Greg Ian can do his research and Sherlock can handle the punishment from here. They all agree and Ian thinks he's getting off easy, but he's not. Sherlock has him run around the flat, the library, and the lab looking for evidence.

When John gets home he asks Ian how his first day of community service was.

"Oh, it wasn't any walk in the park," he says. John hugs him and then they sit for dinner.

Ian doesn't do anything illegal again after that. He does get suspended again later on, only for one day though. He got caught fighting with a student behind the school building. He and the other boy (one of Ian's 'enemies') agreed to fight for fifteen minutes or until one gives in first (John thought that was funny even though he shouldn't have). After _that _Ian doesn't get in trouble again.


	28. Chapter 28: Depression

For weeks now, Ian's been having trouble going to school. He's fourteen and of course he wants to sleep more and not go to school anymore, but John is certain there's something wrong with him.

His son is depressed, that's what it boils down to. He's not angry, he's not sad, he's not anything; he's numb, so numb that John can feel it, too. When Ian walks into the room, the mood changes all around. He asks Ian if he's hungry and he says no. In the middle of the night, John can hear him upstairs awake and in the mornings Ian won't wake up for school. A few times John's let him stay home, but enough is enough and John makes Ian go.

That morning John gets a call from Ian's school saying Ian didn't show up.

"What are we going to do?" Sherlock asks. "Are we going to go find him?"

John shakes his head. "No. Let him be. He needs his time."

Around noon John texts Ian to ask if he's safe and Ian replies, 'Yes.' It's a short answer and though John does want more, he leaves his son alone.

Three days later, John gets another call that Ian didn't show for school. John sighs as he hangs up the phone and buries his face in his hand.

"What is it?" Sherlock asks.

"Ian didn't show for school again."

"Should we—"

"No, no. Leave him."

"We need to talk to him, John. He is not ok."

"We need to not crowd him and let him come to us on his own time."

"What if he doesn't John? What if he thinks we don't care?"

"Of course we care, Sherlock. He'll come to us. I know he will."

A few hours later, Sherlock tells John he's got to go to the lab, but instead he searches for Ian. He goes to the park, to Ian's favorite football pitch, to the library, he even calls Greg and Mycroft to ask if they've seen him and surprisingly Mycroft doesn't know where he is. Sherlock grows worried until he remembers where he found Ian when Ian ran away when he was eight: the Underground station down the street. It's such an obvious spot, Sherlock kicks himself for not searching there first.

He spots Ian on a bench near the far end of the tunnel. He walks over and sits next to Ian.

Ian doesn't look up before he says, "How did you know I'd be here? Is Uncle Mycroft spying again?"

"No, he's not. I just knew you'd be here."

"Mmm," Ian replies.

After a few silent minutes, Sherlock asks where Ian was planning to go.

"Anywhere."

"Why?"

"I just want to get out of here."

"Why, son? Is it Dad and I?"

"No! No, of course not." Ian's eyes begin to tear up.

"What is it, Ian? Please talk to me."

They sit silently and Ian begins to cry. People walk past and stare, but Sherlock and Ian don't move and they won't move until Ian talks.

Ian sniffles and wipes his eyes. Sherlock thinks he's done crying, but as soon as Ian opens his mouth to speak, his face morphs into a full-face frown and he begins to cry again. Through the tears he says, "I don't have any friends, Dad." He throws himself onto Sherlock's shoulder and Sherlock places his free arm around Ian's opposite shoulder.

"Why do you think that, Ian?"

Ian sits up and wipes his eyes and nose. "I don't think that," he says, "I know it. They hate me Dad, all of them."

"Your classmates?"

"My classmates, teachers, other faculty. Everyone hates me."

"I'm sure they don't—"

Ian's face turns into the full-face frown again. "They call me names," Sherlock almost can't understand him because he's crying so hard. "They call me 'freak' and 'idiot' and 'fag' and every other bad thing you can think of."

Suddenly Sherlock feels like he's sitting on a bench with fourteen-year-old-Sherlock. He remembers this exact thing happening except he was talking to his driver on the way to school. Nobody was there to listen to him, not even Mycroft. That's when Sherlock's problems started, and he knows how he's turned out. He doesn't want any of this for his son. Sherlock feels angry; he wants to go to that school and tell every single kid there that they are wrong, that Ian is special.

"Why do you think they do that?" Sherlock asks.

"I don't know," Ian sniffles. "I've never done anything to them, Dad. Once, at the beginning of the school year, I…" Ian looks at Sherlock and shamefully hangs his head. "I deduced that an older boy's father beats him."

"How did you do that?"

"I don't know. I just saw it. He was beating up a kid my year so I stopped him."

"What happened when you deduced him?"

"He followed me home. I was almost there when he stopped me and punched me in the stomach."

"What? Ian, why didn't you tell me—"

"Because I didn't want you to be mad that I beat him up."

"You beat him up?"

Ian nodded.

"Why would I be angry if it was self defense?"

Ian begins to cry again. "I don't know, Dad. I was scared, I didn't want the boy to hurt me again."

"You should have told me—"

"That could have made it worse!"

Sherlock places his arm around Ian again and hold him tight. "Since then they've been mean to you?"

Ian nods. "I can't go back there, Dad. I don't want to go back. They make me want to…"

"Want to what, Ian?"

"…They make me want to do bad things."

"Bad things…" Sherlock pauses. He doesn't want this to be happening to Ian. "Bad things to yourself?"

Ian nods. "And to them."

Sherlock hugs Ian as hard as he can and Ian hugs back. Sherlock sees the difference in his younger self and Ian: Ian doesn't want to want to hurt himself and Sherlock did. Sherlock wanted to believe what the others told him; that he was a freak and unloved. Sherlock wanted to continue being the way he was and let them all hate him, but Ian wants to move past it and overcome; he wants people to love him and he wants to have friends, Sherlock can tell.

"Why do they hate me so much, Dad?" Ian asks.

Sherlock gulps and closes his eyes. "I don't know, Ian."

They sit quietly for a while and Sherlock lets Ian clear his head. After that they go home. When they walk into the flat, John sees Ian's tear marks, red eyes, and red nose and immediately rushes to him.

"Oh my God, Ian, what happened? Are you hurt?"

Ian hangs his head. John takes Ian's head in his hands and tilts the boy's head up to look into his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Ian says, then begins to cry again.

Sherlock wishes he'd stop crying, but at this point he thinks Ian's been bottling it up for so long it's all coming out now.

"Sorry?" John asks. "Sorry for what?"

"I don't know," Ian replies.

John pulls Ian to him and hugs him. He looks at Sherlock and Sherlock takes a deep breath. He places his hand on Ian's back and steps closer to Ian and John.

"Ian won't be going back to that school, John."

"What?" John demands. "Why?"

"It's not right for him."

John and Sherlock leave a while later to get dinner after many, many promises from Ian that he's ok to be left alone. When they come home, they find Ian asleep in their bed. They leave him there and he sleeps for almost twelve hours.

The next day they take Ian to the doctor to get everything sorted, and the day after that they take Ian out of his current school and find him a new school. He begins going there after a week and immediately he makes new friends. The school is a great transition for them.

Months later, everything for Ian is back on track. He feels better and Sherlock and John make sure it stays that way.

_***Ouch, didn't know where all these feels came from. Sorry! **_


	29. Chapter 29: Deduction

At seven years old, Ian believes he's smarter than his fathers. He tries to outwit them, but often doesn't succeed. He tries to hide things from them, but they both figure it out. He tries to find his own clues, the way his Daddy does, but sometimes he embarrasses other people or says things he shouldn't. He is smart, yes very smart, but both Sherlock and John knows he has so much to learn.

So Ian tries to teach himself. He tries to sneak around, and he tries harder to find his own clues. And who not better to test his skills on than his dads? For weeks he finds obscure things about them, chart their motives, and over breakfast one morning he shares his findings with John.

Ian starts by handing John the strawberry jam instead of the grape.

"How did you know I wanted the strawberry?" John asks.

"It's Monday."

John looks confused. "What do you mean, son?"

"On Mondays you like strawberry because it's sweeter and you don't like Mondays."

"Oh," John says. "I guess you're right. You're very clever, Ian."

"That's not all I know, Dad."

John looks at his son. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Ian leans closer to John. "I know _everything._" He gives John the same wicked smile Sherlock is capable of giving.

John shivers. _That look, _he thinks. _It will kill me one day. _"Ok, smartypants," John says, "Prove it. Tell me something you know."

"I know that your shoulder is hurting, Dad."

"How do you know that?"

"I can tell because for the past few weeks you've only hugged Dad or I with your other arm, and that one," Ian points at John's left shoulder, "You haven't moved much. Why does your shoulder hurt, Dad?"

John and Sherlock haven't told Ian about certain parts of their lives; John getting shot, Sherlock jumping off Bart's. John thinks and finally says, "Sometimes it just does. I don't know why." He obviously doesn't like lying to Ian, but sometimes Ian _is _just a little kid and they don't want to bombard him with the nightmares of their own lives.

"Oh, ok," Ian accepts. "I know a lot more."

"Like what?"

Ian thinks. "I know Uncle Mycroft likes Uncle Greg."

John laughs. "That's not really a secret," John says.

"Then why aren't they together, Dad?"

"Because they're both married men. It doesn't work the same for some people."

Ian accepts that, too. "I know that you slept on the couch last night but when I came downstairs you pretended to come out of your room."

John furrows his browns. "How do you know that?"

"I heard you fighting last night," Ian quietly says.

"You did?" John asks.

Ian nods.

"You shouldn't have heard that," John grabs Ian's hand. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I didn't really hear all of it, I just heard you leave your bedroom. But you didn't leave the flat so I know you slept in the living room."

"Right you are," John says, letting Ian's hand go. "So what else do you know?"

"I know Daddy saves texts from you," Ian says.

"Oh, he does?" John smiles.

"Yeah. Sometimes he gets a weird smile while you're at work and does that screen shot thing his phone does."

"That's nice," John says, still smiling. He picks up his juice to drink.

"Yeah," Ian thinks for a minute, then asks, "Dad, what does _wank_ mean?"

John snorts so hard juice nearly comes out his nose. He sets his glass down and coughs, having choked on his juice, and wipes his nose and mouth. "What?" John asks, taken aback.

"What does _wank_ mean? Once I looked at Daddy's pictures to see what he saved from you, and—"

"You read your father's messages?"

"Yes, but I didn't mean—"

"You shouldn't have done that, Ian. Those were private and you really shouldn't have done that."

"Why are your cheeks red, Dad? Did I make you angry? I'm sorry."

"I'm not angry, Ian, I'm just…" John trails off because yes, he's very very embarrassed. Obviously some of the texts Sherlock's saved aren't good, but maybe Ian doesn't know what they mean and he'll forget about it. "Just change the subject, ok?"

Ian doesn't say anything for a few minutes but John can tell he's trying to come up with something good to talk about. _The kid needs to talk_, John thinks.

Finally Ian opens his mouth. "So you're not going to tell me what _wank_ means?"

"No."

"What about _finger _or _cum _or _fu_—"

"No, no, no, no, no, no. I will not explain to you any of those texts you shouldn't have read."

Ian sighs and falls back against his chair. "Some of them were things like, 'I love you,' or 'I miss you,' and one was a photo of you and I."

"That's nice isn't it?"

"But most of them were things I don't understand."

John sighs and rubs his palm against his face. "Well, I won't tell you about those things for a few years, ok?"

"Alright," Ian accepts. "Do you want to know what else I know?"

John nods and they continue breakfast while Ian shares things that John can't figure out how he knows.

When Sherlock gets up it's time for John to go to work. Sherlock heads to the sofa and rests there while John rinses his and Ian's plates and heads for the door. He grabs his coat and goes to the sofa to kiss Sherlock goodbye. Ian joins them and sits in the chair next to the sofa.

"Ian, why don't you tell Daddy about the things you've learned?" John says, pulling his coat on and heading to the door.

"What have you learned, Ian?" John hears Sherlock ask as he exits their flat and goes to the stairs.

"First I have a question," Ian says. "What does _wank _mean?" John hears him say.

"Well, it's when—"

John hears Sherlock begin to explain, then quickly runs back up the stairs, throws the door open, and shouts, "NO!"

Ian and Sherlock are both so startled they jump and their eyes grow wide.

"No explaining to Ian what _your saved text messages mean,_" John says, pointing a finger at Sherlock.

Sherlock looks from John to Ian. "Have you been reading my texts?" Sherlock asks.

Ian shamefully looks down. "Well, I…I just wanted…"

"Right, you can deal with this. I'm off," John says, kissing them both again and saying goodbye.

While John's gone, Ian tells Sherlock all he's learned and only tries to find the meaning in Sherlock's texts a few times. But Sherlock listens to John and saves all of that for another day.

_***Hello, all! If anyone reads my stores The Same Situation of Six Different Men, then you know that this AU has nothing to do with that, so in this one Mycroft has a wife and kids and so does Lestrade, that's why in one they're together and this and ones like this they're not. Just to clear that all up. : ) **_


	30. Chapter 30: Running Away

Sherlock and John try very hard not to fight in front of Ian, but like every parent, they've got thin walls and a very curious eight year old.

They've been fighting on and off for a while. Just little things here and there. Just bickering, nothing really huge and relationship threatening, but to their son every disagreement is relationship threatening.

One morning, Sherlock asks John to take the day off so he can keep Ian while Mrs. Hudson goes to the doctor and Sherlock finishes his experiment. John calls Sarah to ask for the time off, and while on the phone, John looks happier than he's looked in a while. Ian notices Sherlock make faces and scowl each time John laughs. But when John hangs up, Sherlock doesn't say anything and instead sets to work on his experiment.

A few days later, John comes home happy as can be from work and Ian hears Sherlock ask questions about Sarah. Ian's never heard Sherlock talk about Sarah that way, ever since Ian can remember his dad's been nice to Sarah. But there was something in Sherlock's tone that told Ian he wasn't happy.

A week after that, Lestrade ends up at their home and Ian hears Sherlock talk about Greg's wife sleeping with someone else. Greg says he doesn't understand, that the man is his friend and Greg's always treated the man nicely and he doesn't know why the man would do such a thing. Then, Ian hears Sherlock say that it's not _just _his fault, that it's his wife that's doing it, too. Greg agrees and Ian can tell by Sherlock's tone to John that Sherlock is sympathizing with Greg, and Ian remembers John saying that when Sherlock sympathizes with people, Sherlock feels the same way they do.

So Ian gets to thinking. He's a very, very smart eight year old, so he asks himself these questions: _Why have they been fighting so much? Why does Dad get more happy when he talks to or sees Sarah? Why is Daddy suddenly upset with Sarah? Why does Daddy know how Uncle Greg feels? _And it hits Ian: _Dad is cheating on Daddy. _

This obviously makes Ian very upset. A friend of his had a cheating Dad and his parents got divorced. Someone cheating means the person cheating doesn't love their spouse, _that's what Dad said about Uncle Greg's wife. _Ian doesn't want to ask his fathers what's going on in fear of a fight starting, but he wants to know what's going on.

Luckily a few days later Sherlock's called on a case while he and Ian are at home, so Sherlock has to drop Ian off with John at work. John's very happy he's there, and he tells Ian that he's only got two more patients and they can go home.

Ian wanders the building while John's busy. First he gets a lollipop from the receptionist desk, then he messes with the blood pressure machine, then he goes to the roof to watch people from above. When he thinks it's time to go back to John's office, he heads back while passing Sarah's office. The door's open a tiny bit and he hears John's voice coming from the room. He stands close enough to see inside the room, and after watching for a few minutes, he sees Sarah kiss John's cheek. Ian wants to scream out, but just then, John backs towards the door, so he runs down the hall out the back door exit.

He doesn't want to wait for John to go home, and he also doesn't want to go home. He walks down the street away from the clinic, just once looking back to see if he's being followed. Once he reaches the end of the street, he turns the opposite direction of home. He doesn't know where he's going to go, but he doesn't want to go home.

Meanwhile, John leaves Sarah's office and goes to his own, expecting to see Ian waiting for him. But Ian's gone and John searches the whole building for him, even the roof. Nobody's seen him recently, and when John can't find him after twenty minutes of searching the place twice, he finally begins to panic.

He calls Sherlock.

"What, John?" Sherlock answers. "I'm very busy."

John ignores Sherlock's greeting. "Did you pick Ian up?"

"No," Sherlock says, distracted.

"Is he home? Did Mrs. Hudson get him or something?"

Sherlock's voice sounds slightly less distracted. "No. Why?"

"Oh god," John says, mostly to himself.

"John," Sherlock says, definitely not distracted any more. "John did you lose our son?"

"Well," John says.

"I leave him with you for—"

"Now's not the time, Sherlock!" John shouts. "I'll be home in a few minutes. Call Mycroft."

Sherlock hangs up and calls Mycroft. He asks Mycroft if he knows where Ian is, but Mycroft lost him after Ian ducked into an alley three blocks away from John's office. After that, Sherlock calls Greg to ask Greg to send someone over.

Finally John arrives home, and Sherlock blows up on him.

"I can't believe you lost him, John! He could be in danger, he could be—"

"Oh and it was suitable to leave him with me, where tons of people are going in and out every day, all because you _had to finish your experiment_?"

"I'm sorry for believing I could trust you with him."

"Are you serious, Sherlock? This is ridiculous. Come on, let's go find him."

Sherlock throws his coat on and follows John outside.

John starts, "Come on, let's—"

Sherlock turns the other way. "I'll go this way."

John sighs and walks the opposite direction of Sherlock.

Ian walks for a while and realizes he doesn't know where he's going. He remembered a long time ago that Mycroft's cameras would be watching him, so he dips into an alley and walks through town behind buildings. He's not afraid of lurking people, his father's trained him well. He walks and thinks about what his fathers are doing now.

_They're probably out looking for me, _Ian thinks. _I should go back, I don't want to be in trouble. _

Ian convinces himself to head to home. He's been gone almost two hours, the sun's down now, so he walks back on the street but tries to stay out of the way of Mycroft's cameras. When no black car rolls up next to him, he believes he's succeeded.

Sherlock and John circle the areas they both believe Ian to be, Greg looks where they don't really expect Ian is, and Mycroft monitors his cameras. Finally, John calls Sherlock to ask Sherlock where he is.

"Well, I can tell you where I am not," Sherlock says.

"Where, Sherlock?" John asks, angry.

"I am where my son is not because somebody lost him."

"Oh, shut up, Sherlock. I'll meet you at home."

John hangs up and angrily walks home. He thinks about not even going home, to stay out searching for Ian, but there is the chance that Ian's gone home and he doesn't want him to be there alone with Sherlock. He doesn't know what kind of nonsense Sherlock will put into Ian's head about 'John losing him,' or 'John not caring to keep him close,'. He hopes Sherlock would never say those things to their son, because they're not true, but Sherlock's upset and has been for a while so he doesn't know what Sherlock will say.

They meet outside the door to 221B.

"No luck?" John asks.

Sherlock gives him a 'you're-an-idiot' look. "Does it look like I had any luck?"

"Look, Sherlock, you don't have to be so—"

"So what, John? My son is missing, how do you want me to act?"

"He's my son, too, Sherlock. And I'm not treating you like it's your fault."

"Fair enough, John. I'm sorry."

"Thank you."

"However, if he's harmed—"

"Sherlock!" John shouts. "Please, please just this once, try to be optimistic. Nothing is happening to him. He's fine. He's smart and strong, and—"

"And missing, John. Nobody knows where he is, not even Mycroft."

John covers his face with his hand. "Fine, ok? Fine. I'm going upstairs and I'm going to call Greg and Mycroft to see if they have anything new and to see if we need to file a missing persons." John steps to unlock the door and go inside, but Sherlock doesn't follow. "Are you coming?"

"I have an idea of where he might be. I'll be back soon." Sherlock turns and dashes down the street.

Ian rounds the corner to Baker Street, about to go home. His stomach turns and he feels afraid of what his dads are going to do. _First, they'll probably he happy and relieved_, he thinks. _Then, they'll probably punish me. I'll be in trouble. _Ian hates their punishments, usually getting into trouble means having to miss a football match to go to the library instead. Though both sports and education sit equal in his mind, Saturdays ever since he was four meant football and not work.

Ian looks up and sees in front of 221B his dads talking. He takes a deep breath and steps forwards towards them, but from that distance and that angle, he can tell John is shouting. Ian ducks behind a bush and watches, but finally his eyes begin to water and he runs away.

He doesn't know where to go, but he just wants to go anywhere. He realizes that the train with take him anywhere, so he goes down into the Baker Street Underground Station. He goes to the furthest bench from the entrance and sits watching the pedestrians go in and out of the station and enter and exit the train. He thinks about getting on, but something stops him. Instead, he sits alone and thinks.

Sherlock walks down the street straight into the Underground Station. He walks down the steps and looks around the platform. People going in and out, boarding the train and exiting. Sherlock stairs at everyone, _that man is a drug dealer, that woman has been to jail. _Of course Sherlock only sees the people that are the most obvious potential threats, but everyone is a potential threat.

Finally Sherlock spots Ian at the far bench. He calmly walks over and sits down.

"How did you find me?" Ian asks, looking up at Sherlock.

"It's the only place nobody looked."

"I wouldn't have thought to look here," Ian says. He sighs and looks at the people walking by. "Am I in trouble?"

"That depends, Ian. Why did you run away?"

Ian shrugs. "I don't know."

"You do know, I can tell."

Ian shrugs again.

"Is it Dad and I?" Sherlock asks.

Ian hesitates before answering. "No."

"That wasn't convincing."

Ian thinks before answering. "I don't like that you and Dad fight. Why do you fight?"

"Well, son," Sherlock begins. "There's a lot more to adult relationships than things like…" Sherlock can't really think of a 'kid' thing. "…you know, like not wanting to play with someone on your football team. Being married, and since Dad and I have been married for what seems like a very, very long time, well…things just get more difficult sometimes."

"Do you not want to be married anymore?"

Sherlock looks at Ian and Ian looks up at him. Sherlock forgets that Ian's a child sometimes. Right now Ian looks so small and scared, Sherlock wants to hold him tight and tell him everything is ok, but he doesn't. He knows Ian wants the truth, and Sherlock's never lied or sugar-coated anything for his son. He sighs. "Well, of course I do. I love Dad. It's just that…sometimes things are hard. Sometimes I really, really don't like him. But I love him. And I love you. And I couldn't do that to you, I couldn't not be married to Dad."

"Does Dad still want to be married to you?"

Sherlock shrugs. "I don't know, son."

Ian begins to cry. "Doesn't he love you?"

"He does, yes. And he, too, loves you. But I don't know what does on in his head; I don't know what he's thinking or how he feels."

"Dad?" Ian asks.

"Yes?"

"Is Dad, uhm…" Ian gets scared and stops talking.

"Is Dad what, Ian?"

"Is Dad, uh…is he cheating on you?"

Sherlock frowns. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you guys are fighting a lot. And Dad gets more happy when he talks to or sees Sarah. And you sounded sympathetic towards Uncle Greg, and Dad said when you sound sympathetic you know how that person feels. And then…I saw…"

Sherlock looks down at Ian. "What did you see?"

Ian bites his lip. He's nervous. "I saw Sarah kiss Dad's cheek."

"When?"

"Today."

"Is that why you ran away?"

Ian nods.

Sherlock wraps an arm around Ian's shoulders and pulls him close. "I'm sure there is a logical explanation, ok? I'm sure it was a friendly gesture. It'll be ok. Whatever happens, I promise it'll be ok."

"Ok, Daddy."

Sherlock smiles. Ian doesn't really call him 'Daddy' that often anymore. He kisses Ian's head. "Ready to go home?"

Ian nods. Sherlock stands and takes Ian's hand. They walk home where John is waiting.

"Oh, Ian!" John says, ending his pacing back and forth and falling to his knees in front of Ian. He takes the boy in his arms and hugs him tight. "We were so worried." He pulls away from Ian and holds his shoulders, examining Ian. "Where did you go? Are you hurt?"

"I'm ok, Dad."

John hugs him again. "My god, you scared us, Ian."

Sherlock pushes them to the sofa. John and Ian sit on the sofa and Sherlock sits on the chair across from them. "Ian," Sherlock says. "We need to talk about why you left. You need to tell Dad what you told me; what you asked me."

John looks concerned from Ian to Sherlock. "What is it, Ian?" he asks, watching Ian.

"Well," Ian looks down at his shoes. "I told Dad that I don't like when you fight."

"Oh, Ian," John says. "I'm sorry, son. That's got nothing to do with you, you don't have to—"

"He's not done, John." Sherlock says.

John looks at Ian again. "What else, son?"

Ian gulps and bites his lip. "I, uhm…" Ian looks at John. "I asked Dad if you're cheating on him."

John's eyes grow wide and at first he wants to laugh because it's _absurd, _but he knows Ian is scared and confused, so he remains calm. "No, Ian. No. I would never, ever, ever do that to your dad. Or to you." John looks at Sherlock, but Sherlock's looking down at his fingernails. John can tell Sherlock wants to know just as much as Ian does.

"Then why do you get so happy with anything to do with Sarah?" Ian asks.

"Well, I, uh…" John doesn't really know what to say. "She's my friend. And I like to talk to her."

"But why? You get so happy if you have to call her for work, but if you have to call Dad you don't get happy at all."

"I don't know, Ian. I don't know how to explain it. She's just my friend, ok? That's all. I promise."

Ian bites his lip again. "I saw her kiss your cheek today."

John gulps. "Is that why you took off?"

Ian nods.

"I'm being as honest as I can, Ian, when I tell you that she did that just because that's what people do sometimes. I was saying goodbye for the week and that's the way she says goodbye to me, sometimes."

"Goodbye for the week?" Ian asks.

"Yes, I asked her for some time off so I could hang out with you and Dad."

Ian tries to smile. He looks up at John. "Do you really promise you aren't cheating on Dad? Are you sure?"

This time John chuckles. "Yes, Ian, I absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent promise that I am not cheating on Dad."

Ian looks at Sherlock. Sherlock hasn't moved this whole time, he's just been watching John, but when Ian looks at him they lock eyes and Sherlock nods.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"No, no," John says, hugging Ian. "We shouldn't have—" he stops himself. "_I _shouldn't have made you think I was doing anything. I'm so sorry, Ian."

"It's ok," Ian says. He pulls away from John and stands to hug Sherlock. When he's finished, he says, "I'm going to go wash up." before heading upstairs.

John shifts to face Sherlock directly. When Ian disappears from Sherlock's view, he looks back at John.

"Well?" John asks.

"Yes?"

"Did you agree with his question?"

"Part of me did, but I think I'd figure it out."

"You would, because you're clever."

"Flattery will only help to a point, John."

John sits forward on the sofa so his knees are touching Sherlock's. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'm sorry for this afternoon and for all of the fighting and for making you think…that."

"I'm just glad to know you're not," Sherlock says. "But, there was one other thing Ian asked."

"What is it?"

"He wanted to know if I wanted to leave you, and if you want to leave me."

John purses his lips. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him I don't want to."

"What did you tell him about me?"

"I told him I don't know what goes on in your head and I don't know if you want to or not."

John reaches forward and grabs Sherlock's hand. "I don't, Sherlock. I never will, ok? I absolutely never will want to leave you. I know the past few weeks have been hard, but we'll work, ok? I don't ever want you to think I want to leave. And more importantly, I never want Ian to think I want to leave."

"I know, John. I was hoping you didn't want to go."

"Oh, Sherlock," John leans forward and locks his lips to his husband's. It feels refreshing; it feels like things will be different from that moment on. John pulls away barely an inch and tells Sherlock, "I love you," before kissing Sherlock again.

They don't hear footsteps coming down the stairs before they hear, "Get a room."

Sherlock and John break apart laughing.

"You have been watching far too much telly," John says, standing from the sofa and following Ian into the kitchen.

Ian sits and stares at Sherlock's abandoned experiment. "You didn't finish, Dad."

"No," Sherlock says, appearing at the kitchen entrance next to John. "There was a far more important matter occurring."

"Speaking of which," John says, clapping his hands together, "Guess what we get to discuss now!"

Ian groans and flops his head onto the table.

"Now John, I think we should talk this over," Sherlock says. "He didn't get into any real danger, he was only gone a few hours, and he didn't end up in jail. I believe that all counts for something." Sherlock sounds amused.

"Right you are, love," John says. "What d'ya say? Two weekends off of football?"

Ian groans.

"I was thinking the exact same," Sherlock says.

After that, Sherlock and John work together to make their marriage what it should be. They fight far less (unless Dad is being annoying, Ian notes) and they're always happy with each other. Even though Ian's eight and really shouldn't know what they've been doing to work on their marriage, he admits to his Uncle Greg that he _really does not want to know what they've been doing to make things better. _

_***Yikes. Parent!Lock feels. I wanted to write the story of Ian running away when he was eight, like I said in the 'Depression' story. So here ya are. Please review : ) **_


	31. Chapter 31: Tooth

**"Daddy look!" Ian shouts as he runs into the sitting room to Sherlock.**

"What is it?" Sherlock asks, distracted. He doesn't look up from his laptop.

"My tooth, my tooth!"

Sherlock looks up now. "What is it?"

"It's loose!" Ian shouts, jumping onto the couch next to Sherlock.

"Oh wow," Sherlock says. "Let me see."

Ian opens his mouth wide.

"Which one?" Sherlock asks.

Ian wiggles the front left bottom tooth with his tongue.

"Huh," Sherlock pretends to examine it. "Wow son!" Sherlock smiles wide. "That looks great. Soon it'll fall out and a new one will grow!"

Ian's eyes grow wide. "Really? A new one will grow?"

"Yeah! And those are called grown up teeth, and you keep them all your life."

"But remember last week Dad got one pulled out?"

"Yes, well. Sometimes, if you don't take care of your adult teeth, they rot and you have to get them pulled out."

"Dad doesn't take care of his teeth?"

"No, no!" Sherlock thinks. "Dad takes great care of his teeth. Just like you and I. But he had one tooth that bothered him for a very, very long time and it turned out to be, uh, yucky. Understand?"

Ian nods.

"Great. Don't forget to show Dad your tooth when he gets home."

A while later, John gets home and has dinner. He's rushing around the kitchen trying to set everything up because he is very hungry. Ian keeps trying to get his attention but John tells him to wait because he wants to sit down to eat.

Finally they sit to eat and Ian forgets about his tooth until he bites into a carrot and it hurts his tooth.

"Oh, Dad!" he shouts. "Look!"

After biting into the carrot, Ian's tooth grew more loose and when John looks, Ian presses it very hard with his tongue and it pushes forward from his gum.

John takes a deep breath and his cheeks flush. "Th-that's great, Ian."

"Wanna see again?" Ian pushes his tooth forward again.

John closes his eyes and tries to settle his now nauseous stomach. He's never been sick at the site of anything...until that.

"John are you ok?" Sherlock asks.

John shakes his head, stands, and runs to the bathroom.

"What's wrong with Dad?" Ian asks.

"I don't know. I guess that made him ill."

Ian loses his tooth a week and a half later, and in that time John doesn't look at it at all. Not even when it began to hurt Ian because the adult tooth was growing in.

That tooth didn't hurt Ian when it fell out, but John and Sherlock are afraid the next ones will, so to show Ian that losing teeth is good, they give him some money as compensation.


	32. Chapter 32: 5 Time They Get Interrupted

**5 Times Their Plans Are Interrupted + 1 Time They Aren't**

* * *

><p><strong><em>*Warning for very heated Johnlock moment.<em>  
><strong>

In three years of being fathers, Sherlock and John have intimacy to an art form. They've managed to be quick, quiet, clean, pretty much just nervous that at any moment, Ian would need them.

When he was a baby, Ian could easily cry himself back to sleep. Though it took John a very long time to convince Sherlock that he _will _go back to sleep, Sherlock finally accepted and while they were in the middle of sex and Ian would cry, Sherlock would shut his ears down and let the baby go back to sleep. It took minutes, usually, because Ian was an easy baby.

Now he's three and eerily silent all the time. He's very good at sneaking around, which can be good if Daddy's trying to concentrate, but can be bad because Dad is very jumpy.

Tonight John and Sherlock are tucked away under their covers being as quiet as they can be.

"_Ooooooh, Joooohn!" _Sherlock shouts. His head hangs back on the pillow and John sucks on that spot in his neck.

"Sssssshh! Not so loud!"

Sherlock bites his bottom lip and screws his eyes shut. He digs his fingernails into John's back.

"Jesus, Sherlock! Ow!" John shouts. Sherlock's fingernails dug in too hard.

"Ssssshh!" Sherlock hisses.

John moans in Sherlock's ear, making Sherlock moan loud again.

Suddenly they hear a creak from upstairs. They know it's the creak of Ian shifting in bed. Instantly, both of their necks strain to look at the ceiling.

"Do you think he's-" one starts.

"He might be-" the other replies.

"Should we-"

"I don't want to-"

They look at each other and wait a second or two. There's no more noise from upstairs, so John begins to thrust again. Slowly at first, so he can keep his head on to listen for Ian. Finally he thrusts harder and faster, holding Sherlock close and making Sherlock cry out.

"Sssssssshhh!" John snaps.

Sherlock groans. Quiet can be frustrating.

Suddenly there's another creak from upstairs, then another right after.

"Is he-"

"Please god don't come down here-"

"I think we should-"

"Just wait, he might just be getting a book or something."

They wait and stare at the ceiling as if they could see Ian through it. They hear him hop out of bed and pause. _He's probably stretching_, they both think. They hear him step towards his book shelf and pause there.

"See? He's just getting a book." John looks back down at Sherlock and kisses him. Sherlock joins after a few seconds and John resumes thrusting.

Not one minute later, they hear Ian's bedroom door open. They both instantly pause and once again stare at the ceiling.

"Maybe he's going to the bathroom."

"He wouldn't be, he's wearing one of those Pull-Up things."

John looks at Sherlock. "What? Why?"

"He had an accident today."

"He did? When?"

"I don't know, while you were at work. He just got worked up and forgot to go, it's fine."

"Geez, Sherlock, you could tell me these things."

"I didn't find it important to tell you about our son's peeing habits while we were in the middle of sex."

"Well, I didn't mean now but-"

They're cut off because without hearing him, Ian made his way downstairs and is now walking down the hall to his dads' bedroom. Sherlock and John exchange a glance, hope for a second he redirects to the bathroom, but before they know it he's slowly opening their bedroom door.

Sherlock and John have never broken apart quicker. It was even quicker than that time in the back of a cab, or that time in Greg's office. John pulled off Sherlock and repositioned next to him. Sherlock sat up and quickly covered his lower half with a blanket, which John picked a pillow up to cover himself.

"Hi," Ian says in his tiny baby voice.

"Hi, baby, what's the matter?" John asks.

"I had a bad d-weam, Dad. Can I s-weep with you?"

Sherlock looks at John with the same puppy dog eyes Ian has. "Yes, of course. But first, could you do me and Daddy a big, big favor? A big mission!"

"Yes, what?!" Ian asks, always excited for a mission.

"Could you get Daddy and I two bottles of water from the refrigerator? Please?"

"Yes, Dad!" Ian quickly turns and runs out of the room.

"Thank you!" John calls after him.

Once Ian's out of earshot, John rests his forehead on Sherlock's shoulder. "Damnit," he says.

Sherlock places a hand on John's cheek. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's not your fault. We'll just…try again tomorrow night." John kisses Sherlock's shoulder and sits up. He lifts his pillow to check if his big problem has gone down, but it hasn't all the way. He falls back against the headboard and closes his eyes.

"Are you ok?" Sherlock asks.

"Yes, fine."

Sherlock smiles and kisses John's cheek. John opens his eyes and smiles at Sherlock. They both get their underwear back on before Ian comes back.

Ian comes back in with two waters in his little hands. He climbs on the bed and hands one to John and one to Sherlock. He climbs into Sherlock's arms and rests his head tucked under Sherlock's chin.

"Are you sleepy, son?" Sherlock asks.

Ian nods. "Daddy?" he asks.

"Yes?"

"Why are you all wet?"

Sherlock's face goes straight and John chuckles.

Ian looks up at Sherlock. "Were you 'cising?" He means to ask if Sherlock was exercising.

John breaks out into laughter and Sherlock's cheeks grow red. He pushes Ian's head back under his chin and lays flat on the bed. He clears his throat. "Yeah, something like that."

John laughs himself to sleep right after Ian falls asleep, and Sherlock lays awake watching them.

***_Johnlock moment over. _**

* * *

><p>Every year since they got together, John and Sherlock would spend all of Sherlock's birthday in bed. It was always an extremely cold day and they'd recover from Christmas. After Ian was born, that plan didn't go over too well, so they began a new tradition. Each year on Sherlock's birthday, they planned a trip to Sherlock's mother's so she could see Ian again before the hustle and bustle of work started again. Mycroft and his family was always in attendance as well, and this year they planned for no different.<p>

That is, until the morning of Sherlock's birthday. John is running around packing up random items for their three year old, while Sherlock is putting on the finishing touches on an experiment.

"Sherlock, where's Ian's monkey blanket?"

"I don't know. Why do you need the monkey one?" Sherlock replies, distracted.

"It's his favorite one. He won't nap without it."

"Give him a different one, he won't notice."

John looks up from Ian's pack and glares at Sherlock.

"What?" Sherlock asks.

John steps into the living room and holds a different blanket up. "Ian, would you mind taking this blanket to nap with at Grandma's?"

Ian glares at the blanket. "Monkey," he demands.

John looks back at Sherlock. "See?"

Sherlock stomps into the living room and snatches the blanket from John. "Ian, we can't find the monkey blanket, so you will nap with this one. Understand?"

Ian glares at Sherlock. "No."

"But we can't find the other-"

"NO."

"Ian, stop it. This one is perfectly suitable-"

"NO!"

Sherlock's eyes grow wide. He crumples the blanket up and hands it to John. "Bloody stubborn child."

"Yeah, no idea who he got that from," John says.

An hour later, the blanket is found and they're walking out the door. They climb into Mycroft's car and strap Ian in. 221B disappears and Ian waves goodbye.

"We'll be back, Ian," Sherlock says.

Ian nods and lays against his seat with the monkey blanket.

A while into the trip, Sherlock's phone rings. Ian's fast asleep, so Sherlock scrambles to silence his phone before the baby wakes.

"Yes?" Sherlock hisses into the phone.

John can't hear the other side of the conversation, but Sherlock rolls his eyes. _It's probably Lestrade_, John thinks. "No," he tells Sherlock.

"Hang on," Sherlock says into the phone. "No what?" he asks John.

"No case. We are going to your mother's. We are not taking you back to London, we are not working from your mother's. We are enjoying family, understand?"

Sherlock sighs and goes back to his call. "Text me," he says and hangs up.

They arrive at Sherlock's mother's house a while later. John is annoyed because Sherlock was texting and annoying the whole time. He pouted because John wouldn't take him back. He pouted because Ian was being distracting. He pouted about having to go to his mother's instead of work on a case.

They get out of the car and Marie rushes to get Ian. She holds him close and kisses him while he giggles and tries to give her kisses back. She sniffs his hair and his clothes.

"You smell so good I could eat you up!" she says to him.

"Gramma!" he says while giggling.

They go inside and Sherlock quickly says hello to everyone before disappearing upstairs. John excuses himself and follows to put their bags away in Sherlock's old room. He's almost right behind Sherlock but by the time he gets up there, Sherlock's already on the phone.

"Yes, ok and there was a knife present? - No obviously not the killer-"

"Sherlock! What are you doing?!" John tosses all of their stuff on the bed.

"Ahh, there it is," Sherlock says, muting Lestrade. He reaches for Ian's bag, then pulls out his laptop.

"Sherlock! You hid your laptop in Ian's bag?!"

"I knew you wouldn't let me bring it alone."

John flares his nostrils. "You just thought to bring it in case you needed it?"

"Yes of course."

John sighs loudly. "You're going to ignore your family for a case?"

"Yes," Sherlock says. "Does this surprise you?"

John angrily smiles. "No, of course it doesn't. Anything selfish like this, of course you'd do it."

"People are in danger, John-"

"People are here for you, Sherlock. You constantly believe your family hates you and you come here and do this."

"You saw my mother, she was excited to see Ian, not me."

"What, does that make you jealous? Are you jealous of your three year old because your mother pays him more attention?"

Sherlock snorts. "Don't be absurd."

"Then don't be a spoiled brat because your mother barely said hello to you. She invited you here, Sherlock. She wants _you _downstairs. Yes, of course she wants to see Ian, but she wants to see you, too."

Sherlock looks up from his laptop but doesn't move to leave his work.

"Fine. You win. I'm done." John turns to leave the room.

"John-"

John opens the door, holds his hand up to stop Sherlock from talking, and leaves.

The family has lunch and nobody asks where Sherlock is. They all know the case is more important.

Part of John wishes he'd left Sherlock in London. It's like Sherlock's not even there, and John fears this will take all weekend. He knows Sherlock's not going to pay attention to them, Sherlock's not going to sleep or eat, and Sherlock's going to be grouchy because everyone's in his way.

By the time it's time to go to bed, John's figured it's a lost weekend. He didn't get to give Sherlock his gift, they didn't get to sing Happy Birthday to Sherlock. John's very angry when he takes sleeping Ian up to their bedroom.

"Done yet?" John asks, closing the door.

"Almost."

"You've been at it all day."

"Well it's a difficult case."

John's about to lower Ian into his pack-away bed but he pauses. "Do you want to kiss him goodnight?"

"Hmm? In a minute," Sherlock replies.

John gets so angry he nearly throws Ian into his bed, but he stops himself, obviously. He kisses Ian's forehead and lays him down. Then, he grabs his night stuff and storms into the bathroom to change. Sherlock watches but doesn't do anything.

When John comes out, he throws the covers of the bed back and slides in, then throws them back over himself.

"What's wrong with you?" Sherlock asks.

"What's wrong with me? Heh, that's good Sherlock, really."

"Did I joke about something?"

John turns over and looks at Sherlock. "Really, Sherlock? You have no idea why I'm upset?"

"Well there could be a number of things, but I wasn't downstairs all day, so-"

"Yes, yes! Exactly!"

"I don't understand."

John sits up and looks Sherlock in the eye. "We came all this way to see your mother for your birthday. Now, don't give me this, 'she only wants to see Ian,' shit. She was devastated all day because you were up here. Why, just for one minute, can't you think about how others feel? Especially your mother?"

Sherlock is baffled by John's bluntness. "Well, I, uh…"

"Exactly, you can't think of anyone but yourself." John turns away from Sherlock and turns off his lamp. "Goodnight, Sherlock. Happy sodding birthday."

Sherlock's about to call it a night when Lestrade calls. Sherlock stands and paces the room, talking as quietly as he can to not wake John and Ian. John wakes though, and just listens to Sherlock.

Half an hour later, the case is solved and Sherlock hangs up the phone. He gets his bed clothes to change, but all he puts on is his trousers. He walks over to Ian's bed and looks down at him.

John watches him, even though Sherlock thinks John is asleep. John sees Sherlock stare down at Ian, then pick Ian up and delicately hold him. Still, when nobody's watching, Sherlock's afraid of holding him wrong or dropping him, even though he's three now.

Sherlock holds him like you'd hold a baby, cradled in your arms. He rocks back and forth, humming so that Ian doesn't wake up. Ian stirs a bit but doesn't open his eyes.

Sherlock runs a hand through Ian's thin hair. He pulls Ian close to him and kisses Ian's head. He rubs his nose against Ian's forehead, holding onto the closeness.

John hears him faintly whisper, "I'm sorry." John frowns, thinks about crying, then smiles.

Sherlock rocks Ian for about ten minutes before kissing his head and laying him back down. He watches Ian relax into a blissful sleep. He returns to the bed and gently lays down next to John, but not touching John.

John doesn't open his eyes, but when Sherlock settles next to him, he reaches over and pulls Sherlock close.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Sherlock whispers.

"It's ok."

"I solved the case."

"I figured."

Sherlock presses his forehead against John's. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

They hold each other while they sleep. John still sees it as a waste of Sherlock's birthday, but he's glad they made up and they can enjoy the next day at Sherlock's mother's.

* * *

><p>Tuesday is park day because John is off on Tuesday. It's been park day for almost two years now, because that's the day he's always had worked out that he definitely does not need to work.<p>

Since Ian turned three and he finally has a firm grasp of days being different, he thinks every day is Tuesday. He'll come down the stairs dressed in his coat and scarf.

"Where are you going, Ian?" Sherlock asks.

"The park. It's Tuesday."

"No it's not."

Ian eyes Sherlock. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Ian shrugs off his coat. "Ok, then." he sulks until John gets home.

Finally he understands that John is always home on Tuesdays. One Saturday he's off and Ian happily hops down the stairs with his coat on and scarf in hand.

"Oi!" John shouts to him. "Where are you going?"

"The park! It's Tuesday!"

"No it's not."

"But…but you're here so it's Tuesday!"

"No, son. It's Saturday. We've got to go run errands. I'm sorry."

Ian begins to cry. "How long away is Tuesday?"

John picks him up. "Tuesday is in four days."

Ian throws himself onto John's shoulder and cries very hard.

Finally Tuesday rolls around. Ian goes to his dads' bed to check if John's home. When he sees that he is, Ian jumps onto the bed sits on John's chest.

"Huh? What are you doing?" John asks.

"It's Tuesday!"

John checks his phone; it's Tuesday. "You're right. Good job, Ian."

"So we can go to the park today?"

John closes his eyes and lays against his pillow. "In an hour, ok? Give me an hour."

"Pleeeeeeease!" Ian shouts, hopping on John's chest.

John laughs and pulls Ian down, making him lay between him and Sherlock.

Ian giggles and squirms for an hour, but John manages to get enough rest and gets up. They get ready and make breakfast while Sherlock gets up.

After breakfast they go to the park. It's still early so not many people are there, so the swings are open. That's where Ian heads to first.

They play for half an hour when John's phone rings. He doesn't hear it until Sherlock asks, "You going to get that?"

"Oh," John says. He answers his phone and frowns. "Yes, - But today is my - No? - Ok, I'll see what I can do. Give me half an hour." John sighs and hangs up.

"Problem?"

"Sarah needs me to go in."

"But it's Tuesday."

"I know, but Doctor Weaver is sick and Sarah's got meetings and I'm all they've got."

Ian hops off the swing and runs to them. "Dad, can we go over there?"

"Daddy's going to have to take you, I've got to go."

Ian frowns. "Whyyyy?"

John kneels in front of Ian. "Sarah called me to work."

Ian's eyes water. "But it's Tuesday."

"I know, baby. But I've got to go to work, and today I'll get extra money so I'll buy you a nice new toy."

"Nice, John."

"Shut up," John mutters to Sherlock. "How does that sound?"

Ian sniffles and calms down. "Ok," he says.

"Ok? You'll have fun with Daddy, I promise." John kisses him goodbye, then stands and kisses Sherlock goodbye. "I love you both. Have a good afternoon."

"Bye, Dad," Ian says.

Once John's out of site, Ian begins to cry a lot. He cries loud and for a long time.

"Come on, let's go home," Sherlock says, moving to pick him up.

"NO!" Ian says, throwing himself on the ground.

"We're not staying if you're crying, son."

Ian cries more. Sherlock kneels next to him.

"I know you're upset, as am I. But you need to stop. Do you want to play or do you want to go home?"

"I don't want to play without Dad!"

"Then let's go home."

"No, I don't want to!"

"Then get up, stop crying, and play."

"NO!"

Sherlock sighs. He picks Ian up and they sit on a bench. A few people pass them and stare, but Sherlock gives them death looks and they scurry past.

After a while Ian stops crying.

"Better?" Sherlock asks.

Ian nods.

"Good. What do you want to do?"

"I want to play."

Sherlock lets Ian play for a while longer before they go home and Ian takes a long nap.

John gets home around five and Ian runs to him.

"I missed you," John says.

"I missed you too," Ian says.

John goes into the kitchen to see Sherlock. "I'm sorry," he says.

"It's ok. I understand."

"I ruined Park Day."

"Yeah, you did," Sherlock says. He looks up at John and smiles.

John sees he's joking. "You wanker," he says, playfully swatting Sherlock's head. He kisses Sherlock and goes back to the living to try to make it up to Ian.

_***There will be one more chapter of this, of course, but it was getting pretty long so here's the first half. Hope you enjoy, please review! : ) **_


	33. Chapter 33: 5 & 1 pt 2

Every night for the past year, Sherlock and John have read Ian a bedtime story. It's become a lovely family tradition and Ian expects it. Often it's the same story, which drives Sherlock mad, but sometimes Ian chooses a story they've never read. Sherlock also likes to buy him books so they have a variety; he has a wide range of books on his shelf.

So each night they go up to Ian's bed and read. One dad on either side of Ian, that's how the boy likes it. He's very happy and cheery each time they read, sometimes it's his favorite part of the day. John and Sherlock love it, too, because they have a chance to be close with their son when it's quiet. Ian relaxes and falls asleep, and Sherlock and John sneak out to bed, too.

Tonight, Sherlock's been working on the same case for six days. He hasn't eaten or slept much, which John hates of course. He takes Ian places so Sherlock has quiet time, and for the most part John and Ian stay out of the way.

Sherlock's laying on the couch with his fingers under his chin as he tries to think. He hears John and Ian sneaking around getting ready for bed but he doesn't pay any attention.

"Dad," Ian says, "Are we going to read a story?"

"Yes, I will again."

"But…Daddy hasn't read one in a long time."

John glances at Sherlock and kneels in front of Ian. "Daddy's very busy, ok? He will when he's done." John stands and holds his hand out for Ian.

Ian pouts. "Ok, Dad." He takes John's hand and they go upstairs to Ian's room.

Sherlock hears them leave and opens his eyes. He hates having to do this to Ian, but the case and the work need his attention, too. _Six days is enough, I can take a break_, Sherlock thinks. He stands and goes to Ian's room.

When he opens the door, Ian and John both look up. Ian's eyes glow and he smiles as wide as he can. "Daddy!" he shouts.

Sherlock walks over in front of Ian's bed and Ian jumps into his arms. Sherlock smiles at John and sits on the bed with Ian. John continues reading and they sit silently and listen.

Three pages later, Sherlock's phone rings. Ian looks at him and John gives him an annoyed look. Sherlock dips his fingers into his pocket and answers.

"What? - No, I don't have anything. - Oh. - Did you find something? - Yes, I'll…" Sherlock looks at John and Ian. "I'll be right there," he says into the phone and hangs up.

John redirects his attention to the book. "You're leaving?" he dryly asks.

"Something's come up," Sherlock says.

"You have to go?" Ian asks.

"Yes, I'm so sorry. I promise I will solve the case tonight and tomorrow I'll read you two stories."

"Really, Daddy?"

"Yes, yes I promise." Sherlock leans down and kisses Ian's head. He gets up and walks around the bed to John. "I'll be back," he says. He leans down to kiss John, but John doesn't move, so Sherlock's kisses his head, too.

"Bye Daddy!" Ian shouts after him.

Sherlock leaves and John resumes the story. After a few minutes, Ian interrupts.

"I don't like when Daddy goes bye-bye sometimes."

"I know, I don't either."

Ian snuggles closer to John. "Can I s-weep with you tonight?"

John hugs him close and says ok.

Later that night, Sherlock comes home to see Ian and John in bed asleep. He tries to be very quiet as he gets changes and slips into bed, but John wakes up as soon as he lays down.

"Solved it?" John sleepily asks.

"Yes. I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry."

"It's fine. We missed you."

"I missed you two, too." Sherlock reaches over Ian and grabs Johns' hand. "I'm sorry."

"I know," John says, grabbing Sherlock's hand. "But it's not me you need to apologize to."

Sherlock lets go of John and rubs Ian's arms and stomach instead. "I know. Do you think one day he'll resent me for all of this?"

"Hell no. This boy adores you, Sherlock. It just hurts him when you leave."

"I know. I'll make it up to him."

The next day they go to the park even though it's not Tuesday and read two stories for bed, just like Sherlock promised.

* * *

><p><em><strong>*Warning for heated moments between John and Sherlock.<strong>_

Every few weeks, Sherlock and John get date night. They leave Ian with Mrs. Hudson and head out for the night. Usually they go to Angelo's, but the point is that they get alone time and that's all that matters.

Tonight they leave Ian with Mrs. Hudson and head to a new restaurant. They've never been to this one, but they're both very eager to try it.

At first the date is really awful. Since they see each other all the time, they actually don't have anything new to talk about. Sherlock finishes off talking about the most recent case (even though John was there) and John finishes talking about his patients, but after that there's a lot of awkward silence.

Then they talk about Ian for a long time. They talk about the things he does and the things Sherlock has no reason to be concerned about. They talk about him starting school soon and finding him the right school. They talk about how he needs a doctor's appointment and to visit the dentist.

After they run out of topics of Ian to talk about, they fall into another awkward silence. They silently sip their wine and pick at their food, and nothing else.

"We need more entertainment in our lives," John says.

"Maybe we just need another child to talk about."

John nearly drops his fork. "What?"

Sherlock takes a sip of his wine.

"Did you mean that?"

"I don't know," Sherlock says. "It just sort of came out."

"But obviously you were thinking that…so you…want to?"

"I didn't say I wanted to."

"So you don't want to?"

Sherlock looks at John. "I'm happy with just the one."

"Good," John says. "Me too," he adds.

"Good."

After dinner they walk home. It's not that far and it's a very nice evening. They walk hand in hand down the street and take a detour through the park.

"This was nice," John says.

"Yes, I agree."

John kisses Sherlock's hand. Sherlock smiles at John.

When they get home, John kisses Sherlock at the bottom of the stairs. Sherlock's so surprised that he nearly yelps, but he doesn't and instead joins in to John's kiss. John pushes at Sherlock and they stumble up the stairs while still kissing.

They get in the door and pull coats off. The kissing becomes more needy and deep, and after they get coats off, they pull shirt tails out of trousers and begin to unbutton shirts.

Sherlock takes over and pushes John towards their room. Outside the door, he pushes John against the wall and kisses him good. He pulls John's shirt all the way off and begins to work on John's belt buckle.

"Is Ian still downstairs?" John asks while Sherlock kisses his neck.

"Should be," Sherlock says, dipping his hand into John's pants.

"Jesus, Sherlock," John babbles. "Ok, come on," he pulls Sherlock to their bedroom.

There's a green glowing light coming from their bedside table.

"What is that?" John whispers.

"I know as much as you do for once, John." Sherlock sarcastically says.

John pinches his arm. "Ok smarty-pants." John walks over to the table and picks up the light source and finds it's a baby monitor. He turns it off. "Great," John says, flicking on the bedside lamp. Then, they see Ian fast asleep on their bed.

Sherlock notices a note that was under the baby monitor. "_Dear boys_," he reads, "_Ian convinced me to let him sleep in here. Sorry! Goodnight! Love, Mrs. Hudson_."

John sighs and sits on the bed. "Do you want to move him or should we even bother?"

Sherlock sits next to him. "It's up to you."

"If we move him, he'll just wake up and come back down here."

"Yes, I know."

"So…rain check?"

Sherlock places an arm around John's shoulder. He leans over and rests his forehead on John's temple. John looks over at him, their foreheads touch, and they kiss. They kiss for a few minutes until they hear Ian cough behind them, then they break apart and one goes to change and the other goes to get a cup of tea.

The next time they have date night, they ask Mrs. Hudson to please whatever Ian says, don't let him sleep in their bed. She agrees, and they have a pleasant date night, but the next morning Ian is angry with them for leaving him at Mrs. Hudson. Then they make it up to him.

_***Heated Johnlock moment over.**_

* * *

><p>They don't really have much faith in doing big family things. They are constantly being called to work or something, so they don't really try to do things like take trips and such. Tuesday Park-Day and Saturday Swim-Lessons are pretty much the two most planned things in their lives, they're pretty much the only two things that go as planned.<p>

But this week they're planning to take Ian to the zoo. He loves the zoo very much, but usually when they go, they're only there for two hours or so. This week, they want to go all day. They want Ian to see everything.

They don't tell Ian until the morning of the zoo that they're going. They don't want to get his hopes up and their plan not be successful.

He gets up for breakfast and Sherlock's already at the table.

"Hi Daddy," Ian says while yawning.

"Hello, Ian. How did you sleep?"

"Good."

"Do you want some cereal?"

"Ok."

Sherlock pours his cereal and sits next to him. Ian silently and unenthusiastically eats. "You'd better cheer up, son."

"Why?"

"Because today," Sherlock leans close to him. "We're going to the zoo!"

Ian's eyes grow wide and he smiles. "We are?!"

"Yes! We are! We're going all day with no interruptions!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course!"

"What if a case calls?"

"One won't."

"What if Dad works?"

"He doesn't."

Ian smiles. "Ok, Daddy!"

They pack up supplies and leave the house. They're very nervous that work will call, but Sherlock promised that if Lestrade calls, he ignore it.

They're almost to the zoo when his phone rings. His stomach drops and John glares at him. Sherlock takes his phone out and gives a relieved sigh. "It's only Mycroft."

"Oh, good." John smiles and looks out the window again.

They get to the zoo and follow Ian wherever he wants to go. They're there for one hour when John's phone rings.

"John are you going to get that?"

"I'm really afraid to."

"If you have to go, you have to go."

"I know, but I want to enjoy the day with you two."

Sherlock smiles. John takes his phone out and answers. "Hello? - Jesus, hi hello Harry. - Good, yeah, look I'm at the zoo with Sherlock and Ian, can I ring you back? - Goodbye." John hangs up and smiles. "It was only my sister."

"Still not all that great," Sherlock says. John pinches him.

Around noon they have lunch and Sherlock's phone rings again. He tries to ignore it but he can't; the thought of a case excites him too much. He sees it's Lestrade and answers. "Hello? Have you got a- - No. - Later." He hangs up and John looks at him questioningly. "He needs me to follow up from the last case. Tomorrow." Sherlock smiles when John smiles.

Around two they go home. Ian falls asleep in the cab and John and Sherlock stare out their windows.

"This was nice," John finally says.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. It was, wasn't it?"

"I quite enjoyed it. We haven't had a day without interruption in a while."

"I call this day lucky," Sherlock says, giving John a sly smile.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Sherlock gets a serious face but tries to look cute. "John Watson, would you like to go on a date tonight?"

"It'd be my pleasure," John says.

_***Thank you for reviewing last chapter and please review this one! Thank you, **_**TheScaryLittleGhostGirl**_** for suggesting this rating be higher. I can almost guarantee this story will be the only higher rating, other than language, so I just added warnings to each part that needed a warning. If anyone really, really wants me to change it though, I will. Again, thanks and I'm sorry if anyone was shocked by the last chapter before I added a warning. **_


	34. Chapter 34: Hide and Seek

"Ian, stop."

"But Daddy…"

"No, Ian. I need to finish this today. Just go play for a while by yourself and I'll join you when I'm finished. The sooner I finish, the sooner I get to play with you."

The five year old walks away sulking. "Ok, Daddy."

Five minutes later, Ian comes back and tugs on Sherlock's shirt. "Daddy, I want a snack."

"Get one."

"I can't reach."

Sherlock huffs, stands, throws the cabinet open, pulls out a package of fruit snacks, and tosses them to Ian.

"I don't want these," Ian says.

"Go away!" Sherlock shouts.

Ian scowls, kicks Sherlock's ankle, and turns to walk away.

"Ian!" Sherlock shouts, having just nearly dropped his test tube. "That wasn't nice!"

Sherlock turns his head to look at Ian just as Ian throws the package of fruit snacks on the ground. Sherlock doesn't say anything, he's just thankful for the quiet.

Ten minutes later, Ian comes back to Sherlock and stands quietly next to him.

"Yes?" Sherlock asks, not taking his eyes off his microscope.

"I'm sorry for kicking you, Daddy."

Sherlock looks down at Ian. "Thank you for apologizing. Don't kick anymore, ok?"

Ian nods. "Can we play yet?"

Sherlock sighs. "Uhm, sure. Let's play hide and seek. You go hide and I'll count."

"OK!" Ian runs out of the kitchen and Sherlock redirects his attention to his microscope.

"One!...Two!..." Sherlock counts all the way to fifty and shouts, "Here I come!"

Of course, Sherlock doesn't move. He stays at the table to finish his experiment, and he's confident that Ian won't come out until he's found. Sherlock doesn't feel bad, he knows it'll only be about seven or eight more minutes…

Until John walks in and Sherlock realizes it's been half an hour.

"Hey, love, how's it going?" John asks, kissing Sherlock's cheek.

"Mmm," Sherlock replies.

"Where's Ian?" John asks.

Sherlock doesn't reply, but within seconds Ian walks into the kitchen.

"Hey, there you are—" John starts and is cut off.

"You forgot me, Dad!" Ian shouts, hitting Sherlock with the pillow he brought with him.

"Ahh, hey stop!" Sherlock shouts.

"You. Forgot. ME!" Each word is punctuated with a hit with the pillow.

"I didn't forget you, I—"

Sherlock doesn't finish because Ian hits him once last time, turns, and storms off. He gets just out of the kitchen and throws the pillow on the ground, then kicks it across the living room. "Ughhh!" he shouts, storming upstairs to his room.

John sits back at watches. Once Ian slams his bedroom door shut he asks, "What the fuck did you do?"

Sherlock looks back at John and glares for a second, then goes back to his microscope. "It's not my fault your son has a temper," Sherlock says.

"Yeah. I have no idea where he got it from."

Sherlock doesn't reply, instead he focuses on his microscope.

"You need to go apologize," John says.

"I'm almost done."

"Now, Sherlock. He's going to think you don't care."

"Right now I don't care, John—"

John steps over to Sherlock's left, where his microscope is plugged in to the floor outlet, and unplugs it.

"Hey!" Sherlock shouts. "John, I'm in the middle of something very import—"

"More important than the five year old that just assaulted you with a pillow because you, apparently, forgot him?"

Sherlock glares at John. John lifts his eyebrows to be intimidating.

"Ughh, fine," Sherlock says, standing from the table.

He walks upstairs and goes into Ian's room, finding him sitting on the floor with a book.

"Ian? Can we talk?"

"No," Ian says.

Sherlock sits on the floor across from him. "I'm sorry I forgot you."

Ian glares at Sherlock. "You made me mad, Daddy."

"I'm sorry."

Ian looks back at his book trying to ignore Sherlock.

"Ian, I'm very, very sorry. What do you want me to do to make it up to you?"

"Aren't you too busy?"

"No. Dad ruined my experiment."

Ian tries not to smile at that.

"What are you doing? No laughing at that!" Sherlock says it as he tries not to laugh.

Ian bursts into laughter and smiles wide. Sherlock smiles at his son's smile.

"Come on," Sherlock says after Ian calms down. "What do you want to do?"

Ian climbs onto Sherlock's lap and hands him the book. "Read it, please."

"You read it," Sherlock says.

Ian looks up at him and smiles. He holds his arms up and wraps his hands around Sherlock's neck, pulling Sherlock down. Sherlock kisses his cheek and Ian smiles, then Sherlock nuzzles his nose around and breathes in Ian's ear, like a puppy would, and Ian laughs. Sherlock does it down into Ian's neck and Ian screams with laughter, then Sherlock tickles Ian's underarms and ribs. Ian squeals and squirms and tries to stand, but Sherlock holds Ian against him and continues tickling him.

"Do you forgive me?" Sherlock asks, still tickling Ian.

"Yes," Ian mutters.

"What? I didn't hear you!" Sherlock tickles Ian harder.

Ian jerks and laughs and shouts, "Yes, Daddy! I forgive you!"

Sherlock lets Ian go long enough for Ian to stand and run away, but Sherlock crawls after him and backs Ian into the door. "I'm going to get you!" Sherlock shouts.

Ian screams and runs out of the room, so Sherlock stands and runs after him. They run downstairs and Ian hides behind John, between John and the cabinet.

"Come out, Ian! Or I'll have to…" Sherlock darts at John, "I'll have to get Dad!"

Ian screams and runs away, down the hall towards their bedroom.

Sherlock digs his nose into John's neck and tickles him the same way he was Ian upstairs.

John laughs and shouts for Sherlock to stop, and even tries to push Sherlock away. Sherlock presses John all the way against the cabinet and traps him there, still tickling him. Soon the tickling turns into a kiss on the neck, then cheek, then lips.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock whispers against John's mouth.

"It's ok, I'm sorry too."

Sherlock kisses him again, but almost as soon as the kiss starts, Ian hits Sherlock in the leg with a pillow. Sherlock leaves off John and runs after Ian.

The three of them run around for almost an hour before Ian gets tired. After that, he and Sherlock sit on the couch and Sherlock reads him a story. Then they have dinner and continue the evening in quiet because Ian falls asleep early from all the running around they did. Sherlock smiles as Ian falls asleep on him.

_***I realize Sherlock's kind of a jerk to Ian, but that's because I think that's how Sherlock would be. Of course he loves his son and all, but he's still the guy that says 'neat' at crime scenes and jumps up and down for a murder. And Ian is a brat because I think it's funny. **_


	35. Chapter 35: John and Ian

Even though John is the more strict father, it's not often that he and Ian fight. Ian has to be very, very angry for him to even raise his voice back at John, and John does not like to be yelled at by his son. If Ian throws a fit and say, hits Sherlock, Sherlock will tell him not to and send him on his way. John, however, takes a different approach.

Ian has just turned six and has a new found love for being a brat. They don't know what brought it on, but all of a sudden Ian is rotten. Of course Sherlock lets it slide and says he's just being a kid, but John knows better.

One afternoon, John and Ian are home alone while Sherlock finishes up a case. The fact that John could accompany him makes John angry. He has no desire to sit at home while Sherlock dashes about being brilliant without him. Sure, he gets alone time with Ian, but John likes to be there for Sherlock. So John's sitting on the couch scowling at the television.

Ian is sitting on the floor playing with play dough or cars or paint or something. John hasn't really looked at him in a few minutes. He's just fuming and trying not to take it out on his son.

Finally Ian looks up at John and says, "I'm hungry, Dad."

John looks down at him, still scowling. "What do you want?"

Ian thinks. John rolls his eyes. "Do we have macaroni and cheese?"

John sighs and gets up to check. When he can't find any, he walks back to the living room and stands over Ian. "We don't have any."

Ian stands and places his hands on his hips. "Why not?" he demands.

"We must have ran out," John says, not amused. His voice sounds harsh, more harsh than it should be. "What else do you want?"

The fact that John is upset is making Ian upset. "I want macaroni and cheese."

John crosses his arms in front of his chest and stands firmly on the ground. He pulls his army voice. "I said, we don't have any. Now, are you going to ask for something else or are you going to be a br—"

John's cut off because Ian kicks him in the shin. Ian's about to run away when John quickly grabs his arm and pulls him back.

"Why did you do that?!" John yells.

"I'm sorry!" Ian shouts back.

"That wasn't nice Ian! You can't just act like a brat and expect everyone to follow your orders! That's not how it works! I'm your Dad and I'm in charge!"

"Let me go!" Ian shouts, trying to pull away from John.

"No! You're going to go sit somewhere where you'll have no fun at all!"

John begins to pull Ian to the kitchen when Ian hits his other arm. John quickly grabs Ian's other arm and holds it tight.

"You don't hit people, Ian!" John shouts.

Ian begins to cry. "Stop shouting at me!"

John doesn't shout again, but he pulls Ian to the couch and sits him there. Then, he tosses everything off the coffee table, and places it in the center of the floor, far away from anything that Ian could be entertained with. Then, he picks Ian up and places him on the coffee table.

"You're in trouble, Ian. You can't just act like a bad kid when I know you're not!"

Ian cries into his hands. "I'm sorry, Dad!"

John thinks about giving up the punishment, but he knows that won't do anything. He knows that Ian needs to see that John can and will punish him if he does anything bad. "You'll sit there until I say, got it?"

"Yes," Ian says.

John goes to the kitchen to start dinner. He decides to make macaroni and cheese from scratch because he's got all those ingredients. He knows, he _knows _just giving Ian what he wants won't do anything to teach him a lesson, but he wants Ian to forgive him for shouting.

"What are you making?" Ian asks after a few minutes.

"Nothing," John replies.

"You're making something."

"You'll see later."

A few minutes later, he sees Ian moving through the corner of his eye. He doesn't stop Ian, if Ian's just stretching he doesn't want to get angry, but then he sees Ian try to stretch to pick something up off the floor without leaving the table.

"Don't move!" John shouts.

"I'm bored!"

John turns around and stares at Ian, then walks over and stands in front of him. "You're in trouble, Ian. You get to be bored. No toys, no telly, nothing. Just sit there until I say. Got it?"

"This isn't fair," Ian says.

"Too bad."

Fifteen minutes later, Sherlock arrives home. As soon as he walks through the door, he spots Ian and laughs. "What happened here?"

"Dad is mean."

"Hang on," John says, going to them in the living room. "I am not mean. You kicked me and hit me."

"Because you shouted."

"Because you were being a brat."

"Because you didn't buy macaroni and cheese."

"Because you need to start eating something else or you'll grow up to be a stick figure like your Daddy."

Sherlock looks at John. "Hey!"

John glares at Sherlock.

"Fine, alright," Sherlock walks over to Ian. "Don't you have something to say to Dad?"

Ian nods and looks down. "Sorry, Dad."

Sherlock nudges him.

Ian looks up at John. "I'm sorry, Dad."

John sits next to Ian. "I'm sorry, too. But you can't act that way just because you don't get your way."

"I know."

John leans over to hug Ian, and Ian quickly hugs back. John kisses his head and rubs Ian's back in a comforting way.

"I love you," John says.

"I love you too, Dad."

They hug for a minute, then John hears Sherlock go to the kitchen. Sherlock lifts the pot lid and says, "Homemade macaroni and cheese, John? You must be bored."

Ian pulls away from John and he stares at John with wide eyes and a wide smile. "You're making macaroni and cheese?!"

"Yes, just for you."

Ian hugs him again. "You're the best Dad ever!"

"Hey!" Sherlock says.

Ian looks at him. "You can't make macaroni and cheese."

John stands and goes to the kitchen to hug Sherlock. Sherlock glares and doesn't hug him back. "Ian, tell Daddy he's the best Daddy ever and give him a hug."

Ian sighs. "You're the best Daddy ever." He wraps his arms around Sherlock.

Sherlock picks him up and hugs him. "That's right. I am."

John joins their hug and holds them both tight.

_***Hey guys, in case anyone re-reads this after having read the original, I changed it. I didn't like the first one, and I got a few negative-ish responses and you all were right. So here's a better one, I hope. Anyway, thanks a bunch. : ) **_


	36. Chapter 36: YourPad

For Sherlock's birthday, John got him an iPad. John was very proud of it. He was sure Sherlock would love it, but when it arrived, Sherlock wasn't very excited about it.

The three of them are sitting in John and Sherlock's bed watching Sherlock open his presents. Ian hands him a small package and Sherlock smiles down at him.

He shakes the box. "Ooh, what could this be?"

"It's a rock!"

Ian looks from the three year old to John.

John stares at him. "Do not," John warns.

Sherlock smiles back at Ian and opens the box. Sure enough it's a rock. He smiles. "Thank you, Ian. It's a…very lovely rock."

Ian smiles with pride. "I found it at the park."

"You did? Well, it's great. Thank you." Sherlock leans down and kisses Ian.

"Welcome, Daddy!"

John laughs and picks up his gift. He hands the box to Sherlock.

"Oh, what's this?" Sherlock asks. He hates surprises.

"It's a pad!" Ian shouts as Sherlock pulls the first slice of tape off.

Sherlock pauses and stares at Ian. Then John.

John grabs Ian and pulls the three year old onto his lap. He whispers in Ian's ear, even though Sherlock can hear, "I told you not to tell Daddy what his present is."

"But I want to play with it!" Ian says.

Sherlock laughs. "Here," he holds the box out to Ian. "Help me open it."

Ian digs in to the wrapping paper. Soon the box is bare but for the white Apple symbol.

"Hmm," Sherlock mutters as he cuts the tape off with his fingernail.

"What do you think?" John asks.

Sherlock looks at John showing no expression for a minute, then he breaks into a shy smile. "I like it," he says.

John smiles wide. "Do you? I wasn't sure, but I thought you'd like it."

"I do," Sherlock takes it out of the foam. "It'll come in handy."

Sherlock plays with his iPad that morning. He syncs it to his laptop, then adds a few songs and buys a few apps for Ian. The three of them play with it that day, and at night Sherlock leaves it to charge. The next day, he unplugs it and lets Ian see it, but he himself doesn't play with it much.

After that, Sherlock only really plays with it if Ian wants to. Soon, it gets filled with games, movies, and other apps for Ian. There are letter and number games, language games, Angry Birds, Fruit Ninja, and of course Netflix.

Ian loves it. Every day, many times, he asks for the 'YourPad'. That's what he calls it. Every time Ian asks for it, Sherlock lets him play with it. Ian knows how to turn it on, get to the app he wants, and when he's done he knows to put it away.

Two weeks after Sherlock's birthday, Ian's very attached to the iPad and John is annoyed.

"Why are you so annoyed, John?" Sherlock asks as he hands the iPad to Ian.

"I bought that for you, Sherlock. Not for Ian."

"He just wants to play with it," Sherlock says.

"You haven't played with it almost at all. Ian's played with it more than you even look at it."

Sherlock looks at Ian laughing while watching Mickey Mouse. "He's so happy, John," Sherlock says, kissing John's cheek. "It was a good gift. I'll make more use of it, ok?"

John nods. "That's all I ask. It's got great features for you to use for work."

Sherlock agrees and goes back to Ian to watch Mickey Mouse.

The next day, Sherlock does find a few apps that are good for work. The iPad helps him to do a lot of research and stay organized.

Right before Ian's naptime, Ian stomps into the living room asking for the iPad to watch a movie as he falls asleep.

Sherlock shoos him away. "I'm working, son."

"But I want the YourPad."

"I'm using it, Ian," Sherlock says, looking at Ian.

"But I want it!" Ian shouts, stomping his feet.

"Come on," Sherlock says, picking Ian up. "You're grouchy. You need a nap."

"I want the YourPad!" Ian cries.

Sherlock carries him up to his room as he cries the whole way. "Stop crying," Sherlock says. "I know you're fine."

Ian sniffles in Sherlock's ear. "I'm not fine."

Sherlock lays him down in his bed. "You are fine," Sherlock grabs three of Ian's favorite stuffed animals and tucks them in next to him. "You are fine. Go to sleep."

Ian sniffles some more, but he closes his eyes.

"I love you," Sherlock says, kissing Ian's forehead.

"Love you," Ian says.

Sherlock goes back downstairs to work, and by the time Ian's awake, John gets home. John goes upstairs to get Ian while Sherlock finishes up his work, then plugs in the iPad in it's usual spot.

They all forget about the iPad for the rest of the afternoon and through dinner, and at bedtime Ian doesn't ask for it. Sherlock and John go to bed right after they tuck Ian in, so the iPad is left plugged in at the desk.

Well, that is until the next morning.

Sherlock gets up early and decides to work using the iPad. He goes to the desk to retrieve it when he finds it's gone. He glances up the stairs and smirks, fully knowing that Ian stole it. He thinks to not confront his three year old at six A.M., so Sherlock resumes his work without the iPad.

A while later, Ian waltzes down the stairs. "Hi, Daddy," he says.

"Hello, Ian," Sherlock says, smiling at Ian. Ian gives him a kiss, then Ian turns to leave but Sherlock grabs his hand. "Have you got something to tell me?"

Ian's eyes grow wide and she shakes his head.

Sherlock laughs. "Ok," he lets Ian go, "Go wake Dad up."

Sherlock isn't going to confront Ian until Ian tells the truth.

All day, Ian plays in his room. Sherlock told John that Ian took the iPad, and at lunch, when Ian finally leaves his room, Sherlock and John both eye him suspiciously. The three year old doesn't crack, instead he takes his peanut butter sandwich to his room.

A while after that, John hands Sherlock a load of Ian's laundry to take up to his room. Sherlock rolls his eyes and takes the basket upstairs, and when he opens Ian's door, Ian jumps.

"Daddy!" Ian shouts.

Sherlock looks at him huddled in the corner with his stuffed animals and the iPad in the center. The iPad with peanut butter smears all over it.

"Ian!" Sherlock shouts. "What did you do?"

Ian bursts into tears. "I was just playing!"

Sherlock quickly grabs the iPad, then Ian. Ian's sticky fingers smear on Sherlock's crisp white shirt. Ian cries into Sherlock's shoulder.

When they get downstairs, Sherlock sits Ian on the kitchen table and grabs a cloth. He wipes the peanut butter off, but it's very difficult to come off.

"What's going on?" John asks, walking into the room from their laundry room.

"Ian's smeared peanut butter on my iPad," Sherlock calmly says.

"Why did you do that, Ian?" John demands.

"I didn't mean to!" Ian cries.

Sherlock takes a deep breath when all of it finally comes off. Then, he looks at Ian. "Why did you take this?"

"I wanted to play with it," he says. "And you wouldn't let me."

"That's because it's mine, Ian. If I wanted to play with something that belongs to you, but you didn't want me to, should I steal it?"

Ian shrugs. "I don't know."

John turns Ian to face him. "You shouldn't have taken it, Ian."

Ian nods. "I know."

"What do you tell Daddy?"

Ian looks up at Sherlock with red, puffy eyes. "I'm sorry for taking your YourPad, Daddy."

Sherlock takes a deep, calmly breath. "It's ok," he says, patting Ian's head. "Just don't take it without permission again. And no food near it, got it?"

Ian nods.

Sherlock takes him off the table and Ian plays with his toys in the living room while Sherlock helps John with the rest of the laundry.

"Did you think he ruined it?" John asks.

"Hmm? Oh, no. Not really."

John smiles. "You were. You do like it! I knew you would."

"I said I did, John."

"You didn't show it very well."

Sherlock glances at John, then at the towel he's folding. "Well, I love it. Ok? You always get me the best gifts."

"Because I know you the best," John says.

When they're finished, they go back to the living room to find Ian laying on the couch with the iPad. Before Sherlock can scold him, Ian shouts, "Can I play with the YourPad?!"

John begins to laugh, which makes Sherlock laugh.

Sherlock sighs and goes to the couch to join Ian in playing Angry Birds.

_***Yay new chapter. Uhm if you want Kid!Sherlock adorableness, written by me, check out my story **_**A Study in Magenta. **_**Trust me. I think you'll like it. **_


	37. Chapter 37: Sexuality

"Dad," Ian starts as he walks through the door. "What does homosexual mean?"

Sherlock spits and chokes on the tea in his mouth. He chuckles as he regains his breath and wipes his mouth. Ian stares at him with wide, curious eyes. "What makes you ask?"

"Some kids said it at school. It sounded bad, like a disease. What is it?"

Sherlock laughs as he walks past Ian and into the living room. "Ask Dad when he gets home."

John walks through the door and is too busy fixing dinner to stop and answer Ian's questions. Once they're sitting and eating, almost done, Ian asks John.

"Dad, what does homosexual mean?"

Sherlock grins and stands, chuckling the way to the sink and laughing as he walks out of the kitchen.

"Wh-why do you ask?" John asks. It's not that he's uncomfortable by the topic, he just assumed up until now that Ian would never ask what that meant. Not that Ian should know, that Ian should know the technical term for his fathers.

"Some kids were saying it to another kid at school. They made it sound bad. Like a disease. Is that boy sick, Dad?"

John vigorously shakes his head. "It's not an illness, and it's not bad at all. Ok?"

Ian nods. "What is it?"

John sighs. "Well, uhm, it's when a boy, or a girl, is sexually attracted to other boys and girls. Well," John fumbles over the explanation. "It's when boys like boys and girls like girls."

Ian nods in understanding. "Like you and Dad then?"

John nods. "Yeah. Like Dad and I. He's attracted to me, and I'm attracted to him. And we're both boys."

Ian nods again. "But…sometimes…" Ian trails off in thought.

"Sometimes, what?"

"Sometimes you look at girls the way you look at Dad."

Sherlock suddenly appears in the doorway of the kitchen. He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame. "And how is that, Ian?" he asks, staring at John and raising an eyebrow.

John grows hot under Sherlock's intense stare.

"Sometimes, Dad, you look at lady's chests and arses."

"Don't say arse," John warns.

"Erm," Ian thinks, "Bum, then. Yesterday at the shop, you were talking to that woman and you didn't really look at her face."

Sherlock steps closer to the table. "Oh really?" he asks, still staring at John.

John glances from Ian to Sherlock, then back to Ian. "Well, Ian…uhm…" John licks his lips in thought. "Sometimes men can be attracted to both men and women, and that's ok, too."

"But you don't look at other men like that," Ian says.

"Yes," John says, "That's because I grew up liking women, but then I met Dad and fell in love with him."

Having had the sex talk last year, Ian's not shy about talking about this stuff with his dad's. "But you want to have sex with ladies?" he asks.

"No, no!" John defends. "I don't. I'm just saying, it's ok for boys to like girls _and_ boys, and it's ok for girls to like boys _and_ girls. And it's ok to grow up one way and fall in love with someone of the other gender. Ok?"

Ian nods. "I think I've got it."

"Good," John says, taking a deep breath and sitting back in his chair. "Those boys were not being nice when they were saying things to the other boy. It's not a disease, it's not wrong."

Ian nods again. Then he looks up at John with fearful eyes. "Is it ok for me to like girls?"

"Yes, of course! You can like whoever you want!" John says. He points a finger at Ian. "But no kissing or girlfriends until you're older, understand?"

Ian nods. "Ok, Dad."

"Any more questions?"

Ian thinks. "I've got one."

"Go ahead, son."

"Well," Ian bites his lip. "When you were younger you liked girls?"

John nods. "Yes."

Ian looks at Sherlock. "Did you like girls, too, Dad? Or did you always like boys?"

Sherlock takes a seat at the table once again. "Well, I didn't really like anybody growing up."

"You didn't?"

"No. Well, I liked my tutor when I was young, about your age. He was very smart and I looked up to him, so I wanted to marry him."

"What happened?"

"He was much older than me, he was nearly eighteen. He started to date Uncle Mycroft, and he broke Mycroft's heart. My mother fired him and I threw rocks at him."

Ian chuckles. "You did?"

"Yes. I didn't think it was right he hurt Uncle Mycroft."

"That's funny, Dad!" Ian laughs.

Sherlock grins at his son's laughter.

When Ian calms down, he resumes his questions. "When did you start to like people?" he asks.

Sherlock bashfully looks at John. "When I met your Dad."

John smiles down at his plate.

"What happened?" Ian asks.

Sherlock shrugs. "I don't know. I just knew I liked Dad. He's funny, smart, loyal, brave," Sherlock grabs John's hand. "And I knew that I loved him."

Ian nods. "So you never liked girls?"

"Not really," Sherlock replies. "I tried to date a few, but I was never interested in them."

Ian nods in understanding. "So, you didn't like anyone. And Dad liked girls. And Uncle Mycroft? Did he always like boys?"

Sherlock nods. "Yeah, he did."

Ian looks at John. "What about Aunt Harry?"

John nods, too. "She always liked girls."

"Huh," Ian mutters. "Is, erm, being homosexual common in families?"

"I guess it's not uncommon," John says. "It just…I guess it just depends on how someone is born."

Ian nods in understanding. "Ok. I get it all now."

"Good," John says. "If you have more questions like that, don't be afraid to ask, ok?"

Ian nods and stands from the table. "Ok, Dad. Thanks."

Ian disappears up the stairs to his room and Sherlock looks at John. "You handled that well," he says.

"How was I supposed to handle it?" John asks.

"No other way," Sherlock says, smiling. "Though I do find it funny that he asked us what homosexual means."

John smiles. "It's not like he should know. It's not like he has two parents that tell him it's wrong or something."

Sherlock leans closer to John. "Our sons have two daddies who love each other very much."

"Mmmm," John hums, leaning in to kiss Sherlock.

Sherlock leans closer to John, his lips brush his husband's. "He's got one dad who is going to sleep on the couch tonight," Sherlock says, quickly standing.

John frowns. "Sherlock! It didn't mean anything!" John calls, following Sherlock into the living room.


	38. Chapter 38: Treasure

**Treasure**

"Where did you hide the treasure, evil Captain?!" Ian shouts, holding his plastic sword up in a fighting stance.

Sherlock grabs his throbbing head. He waves a hand at Ian's sword. "Not now, son. My head aches."

Ian frowns and follows Sherlock to the sofa. "What's wrong, Daddy?"

Sherlock groans as he throws his aching body onto the sofa. "Just a bit ill, son, that's all." Sherlock lays down on the couch; Ian stands at his head. "Tell you what," Sherlock takes hold of Ian's hand. "Daddy's going to lay here a minute, ok? And you go look for the treasure."

The five year old's eyes light up with excitement. "Well, where is it?"

Sherlock lets go of the little hand. "You've got to find it."

Ian nods. "Ok, Daddy. I'll be back!" Ian hops away and runs up the stairs to his bedroom.

Sherlock, completely sure he's sick with the flu, turns over on the couch and quickly falls into a light sleep.

Ian tears his room apart looking for treasure. "What could it be?" he asks himself, digging through the toys in his toy chest. "Treasure is usually money…" with a sudden idea, he runs to his desk where his piggy-bank sits. He picks the plastic pig up and shakes it. "Darn!" he shouts. "Dad emptied it two days ago."

Ian stands in the center of his room and thinks. His hands automatically come together and rest below his nose, over his lips. He stands that way a few minutes, then realizes his treasure could be _anywhere; _he runs down the stairs to his dads' room.

He throws the door open and scans the room before stepping in. "Dad must have cleaned…" he thinks out loud. He goes to the night stand and opens the drawer, revealing a mess of junk. He quickly spots his Dad's watch, so he grabs it and examines it.

After a minute, he grunts in frustration. "No, no this isn't it!" He throws the watch back into the drawer and searches the room some more. He goes to the wardrobe and searches there, but all he finds is a box of his Dad's army things and a box of memorabilia from previous cases. Neither box interests him, so he closes the wardrobe and hops onto the bed. He jumps a few times before jumping down and going back to the sitting room.

Ian stares at his dad on the sofa while he thinks about the treasure. He sees Sherlock's wallet peaking out of his back pocket, but doesn't think anything of it until Sherlock shifts and the wallet falls to the floor. Curious, Ian picks the wallet up and opens it.

He examines everything. Sherlock's driver's license, a small photo of John and Ian, receipts, Sherlock's credit card, and finally Ian finds the treasure. Many, many bills.

"Ooooh," Ian sighs, taking the bills out. He counts them one by one until he finishes, and there are fifteen bills. His face positively glows. "Fifteen pounds…" he mutters before closing Sherlock's wallet and putting it back in Sherlock's pocket.

Ian hears John unlock the front door and he quickly runs up the stairs. He hides his treasure and returns downstairs by the time John sits on the coffee table next to Sherlock.

"Hey, pal," John says, holding a hand out to Ian. Ian hops to him and lets John hug him. "Did you have a good day? What did you and Daddy do?"

"It was great! Daddy and I went to Bart's, then we got coffee at a shop—"

"Did Daddy give you coffee?"

Ian looks disappointed. "No. It was chocolate milk."

"Good. What did you do after that?"

"We got lunch, then we came home and Daddy fell asleep."

John combs Ian's unruly hair down. "Great. Well, let's go for dinner for Daddy, alright?"

Ian nods and races upstairs for his shoes.

When they get home with dinner, Sherlock is up and making tea.

"What are you doing? Go back to the sofa!" John says as he sees his husband.

"I'm perfectly fine, John. I feel much better—" his sentence is cut off by a loud and forceful cough. The sentence didn't come out very well, anyway, with his stuffy nose.

John pushes him out of the kitchen. "Go! I'll being you tea."

Sherlock goes back to the sofa and sits, then uncomfortably pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. He happens to throw it onto the table so it flips open as it lands. From the angle it sits, he can see there is no money in it. "John!" Sherlock calls.

"Yes, love?"

"Did you take my money?"

Ian glances at John; nobody notices.

"What money?"

"From my wallet. I had nearly three hundred pounds."

"Why were you carrying that much cash?"

"I always carry that much cash."

John stares at Sherlock. "Then why do I always pay for cabs?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "I don't have time for an argument. Did you take my money or not?"

"No, I didn't."

Sherlock sighs. "I don't know what happened to it," he throws the wallet onto the table. "This is just perfect."

"You probably forgot to put it in your wallet. Check your trousers."

Sherlock stands and pulls his pockets out. "Nothing, see?"

John serves Ian dinner. "We'll find it," he tells Sherlock.

The next day, nobody brings up the money at all. Ian decides he doesn't want to get in trouble, though, so he hides the money in his piggy bank. He goes about his day and doesn't think about it again.

The day after that, John decides to go up to Ian's room to straighten up. He noticed it was torn apart (from Ian searching for treasure), so he cleans the room. When he straightens up Ian's desk, he picks up the piggy bank and hears movement inside it. Curious, since he emptied it a few days ago, John picks up the pig and empties it. Inside, he finds Sherlock's money. John takes a deep breath and goes downstairs.

Ian and Sherlock are sitting at the sofa playing games on the iPad when John walks in. He throws the money onto the coffee table. Ian looks up with wide eyes. John crosses his arms and stares at his son.

"Can you please tell me what Daddy's money was doing in your piggy bank?"

Ian bites his lip and looks at John, then Sherlock. Sherlock is staring at him. "I-I-I…" Ian stutters. "It was treasure!" he pleads.

Sherlock buries his face in his hand. "I told him to find the treasure so I could have a few minutes of rest."

John looks at Sherlock. "Did you tell him to find your money?"

"No, not the _money_."

John looks back at Ian. "Why didn't you give it back a few days ago?"

"I didn't want to get in trouble," Ian mumbles.

Sherlock wraps an arm around Ian. "Next time, please give the treasure back, ok? Rather, please don't take money. Ok?"

Ian nods. "You're not mad?"

"No, I'm not mad that you took the money. I'm—we're just a bit upset that you kept it from us. Ok? Tell the truth next time."

Ian nods. "Ok. I'm sorry, Daddy."

Sherlock hugs him. "It's alright."

John ruffles Ian's hair. "What were you going to do with three hundred pounds anyway, young man?"

"I thought I'd buy a candy bar," Ian truthfully states.

John and Sherlock burst into laughter.

"I'm sure we can get you one," Sherlock says.

_***Hey guys. Haven't really been in a writing mood. Hope you like this, though!**_


	39. Chapter 39

"What have we got on tonight?" John asks, standing from the desk with his breakfast plate.

"Nothing as of late. Why?"

"Let's go out," John explains, going to the kitchen.

"Hmm, alright. Where to, Ian?" he playfully asks the baby he's trying to feed eggs.

John walks back into the room. "Not the three of us, just you and I."

Sherlock places the spoon down and Ian looks at him longingly. "Like a...date?"

John leans on the back of his chair. "Yeah, a date. We haven't gone out in a while, just the two of us."

"Alright," Sherlock says. "Seven?"

John smiles. "Perfect," he says before kissing Ian's cheek and leaving the room.

Fifteen minutes later he emerges from the bedroom fully dressed. "I'll be back. Ask Mrs. Hudson about keeping Ian." John gives Sherlock a flirtatious smile. "And I'll see you later."

Sherlock smiles. "Looking forward to it."

John kisses him deeply before kissing Ian's head and going to the door.

"Tell Dad goodbye," Sherlock tells Ian.

Ian waves his tiny hand. "Bye dad," he says.

After a while, Sherlock gets nervous. He and John haven't been on a date in many months, they haven't slept together in a while. He doesn't know how the date is going to go.

Sherlock decides to distract himself by choosing his clothes for the night. He hangs his nicest suit on the hook on the wardrobe, then opens it up and pulls out all of his shirts. He throws them on the bed. Ian glares at them, then at Sherlock.

"Don't look at me like that," Sherlock says. "I'm nervous. I have a date tonight. You know, you were there."

"Dad?" Ian questions.

"Yes, with your dad." Sherlock holds up two shirts "He's very nice, you know? He's so handsome."

"'Some," Ian repeats.

Sherlock picks up two other shirts. "Yes, yes he's quite gorgeous actually. I want him to have a good time with me. Do you think he will?"

"Yyyyes," Ian says.

"I love him very much, and I want to look nice for him tonight. So, which one?" Sherlock holds up his deep red shirt and deep purple shirt.

Ian makes a disgusted face. "No."

Sherlock drops the shirts and looks disappointed. "What do you mean no?"

"B-u-lue," Ian says.

"You don't even know which one is blue!" Sherlock picks up the dark blue and light blue one.

"Nonononono!" Ian shouts.

Sherlock tosses the shirts aside. "What do you want from me?!"

Ian chews his finger in thought. He points at the purple shirt. "Red."

"This is purple, son. Can you say purple?"

"Pup-le," Ian says.

"Close," Sherlock says. He holds the shirt up. "I should wear this one?"

Ian nods.

Sherlock hangs the shirt with his suit. "Do you think this shirt will get Dad to want me?"

"No," Ian says.

Sherlock glares at him. He goes back to the bed and picks Ian up. "I don't need advice from a little baby," Ian playfully bites at Sherlock's shoulder. "Hey, hey! None of that!" Sherlock carries Ian to the living room. "Come on, let's go ask Mrs. Hudson to keep you for the night."

John gets home at 5. He whistles up the stairs and gleefully throws the door open. "Honey," he calls, "I'm home!"

Sherlock smiles from the desk. "Hello, John, how was-"

Instead of going to Sherlock, John goes to Ian. "Hi, honey," he coos at the child.

"Dad," Ian observes.

"Don't get too excited, son," John jokes. "Do you ever fear we have the most boring child ever?" John asks Sherlock.

"Nonsense," Sherlock says. "You should have seen him at the park today. He was running around babbling at leafs while two other children just sat and played ball. Ian ran around finding leafs for me. It was quite delightful."

John runs his fingers through his son's brown hair. "He doesn't play with other children?"

"Don't get any ideas, John. He is _not _going to a daycare."

"He just needs—"

"No."

"No," Ian copies.

Sherlock smirks.

"Fine, you two win," John checks his watch. "I'm going to get in the shower. Pack things up for Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock goes up to Ian's room to pack a bag. He gets a pair of tiny pajamas, diapers, and every toy that Ian gives him.

"You have toys down there," Sherlock says, taking a few out of the bag.

At seven, they take Ian down to Mrs. Hudson and leave for their date. They make small talk in the cab, and once they get to the restaurant they silently look through the menu.

Finally, John says, "I don't know what else to talk about but Ian."

Sherlock sighs. "Oh, good. I thought I was being boring. I don't know what to talk about, either."

"I miss him," John says.

"We've only been away for half an hour and I miss him as well."

"I didn't know you were going to take him to the park today," John says.

"We were bored waiting around for you. He's a bit young to teach how to shoot walls."

John laughs. "Please don't teach him that."

Sherlock laughs, too. "How was work?"

John talks about how his day was and Sherlock tries not to talk about how bored he is by the story.

As soon as their food arrives, their wishes are granted. Something interesting!

Sherlock's phone rings as soon as the waitress places his pasta in front of him. He fishes it out of his jacket and looks alarmed.

"What is it?" John asks.

Sherlock holds a finger up to quiet John. "Hello? – Yes. – No, no don't worry. – Of course, yes we'll be right there."

"What's going on?" John asks, assuming there's a case.

"That was Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock holds up his hand for the waitress. "Ian's been screaming since we left. She decided to take his temperature and he has a fever."

John looks alarmed. "Is it high?"

"Not very high, but we'd better get home."

The waitress comes and they get take out boxes for their food. They rush home, partially from wanting to help their son, and partially to end their boring date.

When they get home, Sherlock gets out of the car and goes right into the house before John's even out of the car. He doesn't knock at Mrs. Hudson's door, he walks right in.

"Oh, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson says. "I'm so sorry to interrupt your date, he's just in so much pain, I can tell. It looks like he's teething again."

"Dad!" Ian cries as Sherlock picks him up.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you for calling." Sherlock kisses her cheek before leaving her flat.

They give Ian medicine and he falls asleep on Sherlock's chest in their bed. With one hand, Sherlock rubs circles on Ian's back, and he lays the other arm over John's pillow. John stands in the doorway brushing his teeth.

"Sorry our date was cut short," Sherlock calls to John.

"'s fine," John says. He disappears into the bathroom and comes back minutes later. "I'm glad Ian's feeling better." He crawls into bed next to Sherlock, resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock rubs his back. "He's breathing very raspy. He might be getting sick."

"Were there puddles at the park?"

Sherlock's hand stills. "Er…no…"

John sighs. "I told you no puddles, Sherlock. He's a baby, he gets sick easier."

"It was just one puddle, it was tiny, and all he did was run through it. I'm sorry. He'll be fine."

Just then, Ian coughs three times.

"He's fine, ok?" Sherlock says again. "I'll take him down to the clinic tomorrow."

The next day, Sherlock takes Ian to the clinic. He cries and scowls the whole time they sit in the waiting room, and Ian clings to Sherlock. He's curled up in a ball on Sherlock's lap with his face in Sherlock's chest. When they get called into an exam room, Ian buries his face in Sherlock's neck.

The doctor tries to pry Ian away from Sherlock, but Ian won't budge. He holds on tighter and cries louder. Finally, the doctor leaves and comes back a minute later.

"Ian, someone is here to see you," the doctor says.

"Look who is here, son," Sherlock says, patting Ian's back.

They finally convince Ian to let Sherlock go, and he sees John waiting for him. Ian gasps and shouts, "Dad!" and dives into John's arms.

"Can you let Doctor Smith look at your throat, please?" John tries to reason with the baby. "Look," John opens his mouth. "Aaaaah!"

Ian does the same. "Aaaah!"

Doctor Smith quickly looks at his throat.

"How about your ears?" John asks, turning his own head. "Show Doctor Smith your ears."

Ian turns his head and points at his ear, then the other when John asks.

"I need to listen to his breathing," Smith says.

"Right, uhm," John kneels next to Ian. "Do you think you could lay on the table for Doctor Smith. He wants to listen to you right here," John points at Ian's chest.

"No," Ian says.

"Look, just like this," John takes his stethoscope and presses it to Ian's chest. "Just like this. Is that ok? Can he do that?"

Ian begins to cry, but John lays him on the table anyway. John stands next to Sherlock and wraps an arm around his shoulders. "Are you ok?" John asks.

"Hmm? I'm fine," Sherlock says, unconvincing.

"He's fine, Sherlock. He's just got a cold, that's all."

Sherlock nods.

When Ian's finished, Sherlock bundles him up as Doctor Smith leaves to get his prescription.

"He's fine, love," John reassures Sherlock.

"I know," Sherlock says.

"It's ok to be scared, Sherlock. It's parental instinct to fear the worst."

"Why are you so ok, though?"

"Because it's also parental instinct to hope for the best."

Sherlock takes a deep breath and takes Ian out of John's arms. "Thank you, John."

John hugs Sherlock. "You two get some rest, ok?" He kisses Ian's cheek, then kisses Sherlock. "I love you."

"I love you, too, John," Sherlock says. "Do you love Dad?" Sherlock asks Ian.

Ian nods.

Ian gets better a few days later, and they go back out on a date. On the second try it all works out, even though they are boring and have nothing but their son to talk about.

_***Really long and really random. It's kind of combining two different stories at once, but that's ok. Hope you all enjoy! : ) **_


	40. Chapter 40

**Decorations**

Ian's getting tired of his dads' excuses. Five year olds have short patience, but _this. _"There's a case, son…" or "I've got to go to the clinic…" It's been four days since he started asking, and Ian wants the Christmas tree up _now_.

The first excuse was that there are too many toys everywhere, so they can't put the tree up. So Ian starts there. He picks up two toys from the sitting room floor, runs upstairs as fast as he can, and tosses them through his open bedroom door. He repeats this until the floor is clear and there's a pile of toys right in front of his doorway.

After that, he decides he needs a snack. He walks into the kitchen where his dad is hunched over his laptop viciously hacking away at the keyboard.

"Dad?" Ian asks.

"Yes, son?"

"Can I have a snack?"

"What do you want?" Sherlock doesn't look up from his laptop.

"Fruit snacks?"

Sherlock quickly grabs a pack from the cabinet and hands them to Ian, but Ian hands them back so he can open them. When the exchange is over, Ian goes to the sitting room to watch cartoons.

When he's finished, Ian decides it's really time to get to work. The tree they've set up every year is located in the basement, but the box of decorations is in the hall closet. Since he can't get in to the basement, he goes to the hall and swings the closet door open.

He stands staring at the large box on the top for five minutes, trying to figure out how to get it down. Finally, he decides a broom will do the job.

He goes to the kitchen and gets the broom John left. Sherlock doesn't even notice him or question what he's doing, so Ian goes back to the closet and pokes at the box with as much force he can. He does it six times, manages to get it loose, then hits it one last time and it falls on top of him.

Nothing in the box is heavy enough to hurt him, but it startles him so much that he screams and cries. This catches Sherlock's attention. He rushes to Ian.

"Ian! What happened?"

Ian pushes ornaments and decorations away and pulls garland off his head. "The…the box…fell on me!" He sniffles between each word.

Sherlock kneels next to him and pulls him out of the mess of garland and lights. "What were you doing?"

Ian wraps his arms around Sherlock's neck. "I wanted to decorate. And you're too busy."

Neither of them hear John enter 221B or walk up the stairs. "What's going on?" he asks.

Sherlock looks up at him and strokes his son's hair. "We've been too busy for Christmas, John."

John looks at the damage; none too bad. He kneels next to Sherlock and rubs Ian's back. "Are you ok?"

Ian nods into Sherlock's shoulder.

John stands and turns to walk down the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asks.

"I'm going to get the tree. The decorations are already out."

Ian's head quickly lifts in excitement. His smile is wide and his eyes bright. "Finally!" he says.

John and Sherlock both laugh.

_***I've been away a while and haven't had time to write. But here's a little thing. **_


	41. Chapter 41: Gone

**Gone**

"I can't do this anymore," Sherlock mutters.

John's chest feels like he's taking a bullet to the heart. And he knows what that feels like. "What?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "I can't do this John. I'm ruining everything."

"No, you're not. It's just…we need a case, yeah? And something fun. We'll go to the zoo tomorrow. And we'll—"

"I'm leaving tonight." Sherlock stands from his seat on their bed. "Right now, I'm leaving right now."

John stands and follows him to the wardrobe. Sherlock pulls his suitcase from the corner and lays it on the ground, then begins randomly pulling out shirts and tossing them in.

"Sherlock, love, come on—"

"Don't. I'm leaving. I'm ruining your life. I'm ruining his life."

"He's four, Sherlock. He's got a lot of life to live, and you _need _to be here for it." John's eyes tear up, so he stops talking before his voice cracks.

Sherlock shakes his head and ignores John's tears. "He just needs you. I'm nothing. I'm getting away before I ruin him further."

"You're not ruining him! He loves you more than anything in this entire universe, Sherlock! Hell, I'm sure he loves you more than he loves me, but you're his Daddy. You are his entire life. And I know he's yours."

"I told you a long time ago that the work's what matters," Sherlock blurts without thinking.

John stops. He's suddenly so angry that he wants to punch Sherlock in the face. His fists clench and he thinks about actually punching him, but for the sake of not making things worse, he doesn't. "So you're saying he doesn't even matter?"

Sherlock takes a deep breath. "I didn't say that John, what I meant is—"

"No. Shut up. I don't want to hear anything from you anymore." John grabs the suitcase from Sherlock's hand and throws it to the ground. "We're done talking about this. Come on, let's get in bed."

"No, John," Sherlock refuses. "I'm leaving." He grabs the suitcase and leaves the room before John can stop him.

"Sherlock!" John shouts as they enter the sitting room and Sherlock grabs his coat off the rack.

"I'll be back tomorrow to collect the rest of my things. While he's at school."

"What am I supposed to tell him, Sherlock? That his Dad left because he's a selfish prick? That his Dad doesn't care about him anymore? That his Dad—"

Sherlock gets way into John's personal space and points a finger almost touching John's nose. "Don't you _dare _ever say those things to him! Don't you _dare _put those ideas in his head!"

"Then what the fuck are you doing, Sherlock?!"

"I'm…I'm leaving." Sherlock picks up his suitcase and leaves.

"Sherlock!" John runs after him. They go down the stairs and out into the street. John finally reaches out and grabs Sherlock's coat, causing Sherlock to spin to look at him. "Stop this. Ok? We'll fix it. I can fix it."

Sherlock yanks his coat out of John's hand. "Goodbye, John. Go back inside, it's cold out."

John's eyes tear up again. "Sherlock, please. I can fix this."

Sherlock lightly touches John's arm, then turns around and leaves.

John stands in the cold for ten minutes crying and shouting at nothing. He wants to run after Sherlock, and he wants to hope Sherlock will come to his senses, but slowly over those ten minutes, John realizes Sherlock is gone. He feels emotionally drained. He goes back inside and locks the door behind him.

"Dad?" he hears as he makes it to their landing.

John jumps. He didn't think Ian was awake. "What are you doing awake?"

"I heard you shouting just now. Why were you outside?"

John kneels in front of his little boy. "Nothing, I just needed some air. I'm sorry for waking you."

Ian frowns at his dad's face. "Are you crying, Dad?"

"No, baby. I'm not." John pulls Ian close and hugs him tight. Before he begins to cry again, John stands and pulls Ian into his arms. "You can sleep with me tonight."

Ian smiles and rests his head on John's shoulder. "Where's Daddy?" he asks.

This time, tears fall from John's eyes. He doesn't say anything, he just drops Ian onto his bed and curls up next to him.

The next morning, John gets Ian up and ready for school without any incidents. Ian only asks once where Sherlock is and John says he doesn't know.

"Is he on a case?"

"Erm, yeah. He's on a case." John doesn't feel right about lying to his son, but he'd feel worse about telling his four year old that his Daddy's gone.

That afternoon, Sherlock stops by to pick up his things. John walks in right as Sherlock's delicately packing the skull into a box.

"I'll be gone as soon as possible," Sherlock says.

John waves a hand at him. "Take your time." He just wants more time to spend with Sherlock.

"How is Ian?" Sherlock asks as he packs various books.

"Questioning where his Daddy is."

John doesn't see Sherlock sigh. "He'll be fine."

"No he bloody won't, Sherlock!" John shouts. He steps close to Sherlock. "You realize you're his biological father, right? You realize that…that technically…I'm not even—"

"Stop that, John. You signed the papers, you're his father."

"Yes, but _you _are his father. And you're leaving him. How do you think that'll make him feel, Sherlock?"

"I know exactly how it'll make him feel," Sherlock admits. "It'll make him strive to do better, to be better, to be—"

"To be a better bloody father than his was?" John snorts.

"I love him, John. I do. But I…just…"

"And me? Do you love me anymore?"

"Don't do that, John. Of course I—"

"Then stay. If you love him, if you love me, then stay."

Sherlock tucks his last book into a box. "I can't, John."

"Then you're a coward. You're horrible."

"Call me names if that'll help you cope, John. I understand. Hate me, please. As long as you're ok."

"I'm not going to be ok, Sherlock! My husband, the man who devoted his life to be with me, is leaving. My son's father is leaving him. Nothing will ever be 'ok'."

"I'm sorry you feel that way—"

"You're not sorry. You don't even care, I can tell. Just go, Sherlock. Get out of my house."

Sherlock suddenly feels very guilty. He knows that right at that moment, if John asks him to stay, he will. "John, I—"

"Go!" John shouts.

So Sherlock leaves with a large box of random belongings.

For days, John tiptoes around answering Ian's questions. He has no idea what to say, where to start. He lets Ian believe Sherlock's still on a case, and Ian happily accepts that explanation.

A week goes by and finally Mycroft calls. John expected it within the first couple of days, but it takes Mycroft a full seven to get around to it.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" John answers.

"I am checking in on you and Ian."

"I'm not talking about any of this with you. If your brother cares so damn much about how we feel, then he shouldn't have left. Tell him to shove it up his arse."

"I can assure you I haven't spoken with my brother since the night he left. I don't know where he is."

"Bollocks," John snaps. "You're all in his business, I'm sure you could tell me exactly where he is at this moment."

"I can't, John, I'm telling the truth."

"You know," John starts, "I've been racking my brain for a week trying to figure it all out, step by step. What I did, what anyone else did. Is there someone else, Mycroft? Is that it? Did he finally find somebody at his level, somebody as good as him? Are we not good enough, my son and I? I can't figure it out, Mycroft. What did I do wrong?"

"I know answers to none of your questions, John. I'm sorry."

John sighs. "Just tell him…" John thinks for a second, then adds, "Tell him I'm lost."

"I'm sorry, John."

John hangs up before he starts to cry again. He's been able to keep the tears away while he's with Ian, but when Ian's not around they flow freely. With Ian in the other room, John tries his best to keep the tears in.

Two weeks pass and John's still heard nothing from or about Sherlock. Not even Lestrade can help. Sherlock won't answer his calls either. John's heart skips a beat when he sees a newspaper article about Sherlock solving some murder, but then John realizes the paper was from a month ago and John begins to cry. He just feels so torn apart.

Four weeks after Sherlock left, John gets a call in the middle of the night. He checks the caller ID and sees it's Lestrade. John quickly answers. "Hello? How's Sherlock, is he alright?"

"I'm sorry to call, John, but Mycroft's just issued a missing persons on Sherlock."

"A what? A missing persons?"

"Well, Mycroft received a strange phone call last night. It was Sherlock and Sherlock told him things like, 'Tell John I'm sorry and I love him, and let Ian know that I love him, too.' Things like that. Mycroft tried to find him, thinking Sherlock was using again, but he couldn't find him. Mycroft received a text this afternoon from an unknown number that said, 'I've got him.' Mycroft believes Sherlock's been kidnapped."

"What? Oh my god. What can I…where should I go…we need to find him!"

"Everyone is searching John, I assure you. I had to let you know. If I hear anything, I'll let you know."

After John hangs up, he can't go back to sleep. He looks over at Ian laying in Sherlock's spot and he feels ill. After he throws up twice, he makes a pot of tea and lies on the sofa. He checks his phone every five minutes and quickly becomes a nervous wreck.

The next day, Lestrade calls and lets John know that they haven't heard anything, but that they're still looking. For four more days, John makes himself sick with worrying and Lestrade tries his best to be helpful, but John grows angry and tells Lestrade to try harder, that Sherlock's out there somewhere.

On the fifth night Sherlock's missing, John asks Mrs. Hudson to keep Ian because he's so sick with worrying. Mrs. Hudson happily agrees, and John manages to drift to sleep.

At 2 AM, John hears a bang from downstairs and someone walking up the stairs. John grabs his gun and hops out of bed, then carefully walks down the hall to the kitchen as he hears the person noisily enter the flat. John rounds the corner to the sitting room and holds his gun up at the shadow.

"Freeze!" he shouts.

The figure stops. "John…"

John's heart stops. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock clears his throat. "It's me, John."

John drops his gun on the table and switches the light on. Sherlock winces at the light. John takes in his form before he does anything else. The doctor part of him stares worriedly at his patient. _Malnourished, pale, sensitive to light…_

"John," Sherlock says once and stumbles forward.

John grabs him and pulls him back into a standing position. "Oh my god, Sherlock," he wipes dirty curls out of Sherlock's hair. "What happened? Are you hurt? Oh god, Sherlock…"

Sherlock falls into a chair and takes deep breathes. "They…found me…I couldn't get away…"

"How did you escape? I need to call Lestrade…"

"No! Not yet!"

John stops his movements and brushes Sherlock's hair away again. "I need to let him know you're safe, Sherlock."

"In a while, ok? I need…" Sherlock looks down at his clothes. "I need a shower. And water."

John fetches Sherlock a tall glass of water, and after Sherlock drinks two glasses, he stands to go to the shower. He immediately stumbles back into his chair.

"Come on," John pulls Sherlock up and helps him walk to the bathroom. "I'll bathe you."

Sherlock calmly and sleepily sits in the tub while John cleans him in silence. John's thoughts aren't anywhere near Sherlock leaving, they're about Sherlock being safe and possibly shooting the bastards who did this.

John cleans a few cuts that Sherlock has and examines Sherlock's black eye and swollen lip. "What happened?" he asks.

"Not now," Sherlock whispers.

Sherlock's vulnerability fuels John's courage. John strokes his cheek and Sherlock's gaze slowly falls onto John. They lock eyes, and John sees painful tears in Sherlock's eyes.

"I'm so sorry John," he says.

"Oh, Sherlock," John says, falling forward and pressing his forehead to Sherlock's.

"I'm so glad you're safe," John says.

Sherlock grabs the hand that's on his cheek. "I'm so glad I…I made it."

John leans forward and lightly kisses Sherlock's dry lips. Sherlock kisses back as best he can, but he only has the strength for two lazy kisses. John pulls away and stands, holding Sherlock's towel and helping Sherlock stand.

After the bath, Sherlock calls Lestrade to tell him everything. Lestrade insists Sherlock go to a hospital, and John agrees, but Sherlock refuses. He tells Lestrade he'll go in for his statement in the morning.

John makes Sherlock a few slices a toast while he's on the phone and he makes Sherlock eat before he can go to bed. When he finishes them, John gladly carries Sherlock to their bed and tucks him in before slipping in beside Sherlock.

"I'm so sorry John," he says again.

"I know, love. I am too. I'm just glad you're home."

Sherlock nods. "Where is Ian?" he asks.

"Downstairs with Mrs. Hudson. He'll be so happy you're home."

"He doesn't hate me?"

"Of course not, Sherlock. He never wil."

"And…you?"

John snuggles as close to Sherlock he can. "I could never. I love you so much."

Sherlock's eyes drift closed and he eases into John's touch. "I love you, too," he says before drifting to sleep.

The next morning, John gets Ian from Mrs. Hudson and takes him upstairs. He tells Ian he has to be very careful and quiet, and Ian asks why until John opens their bedroom door and Ian sees Sherlock asleep.

"Daddy!" Ian shouts.

Sherlock slowly wakes and lazily smiles at Ian. He tries to sit up, but John tells him to lay back. He puts Ian on the bed and Ian lies on Sherlock's chest, trying his best to hug Sherlock. Sherlock hugs Ian and rubs circles into Ian's back.

"I'm glad you're back, Daddy," Ian says.

"Me too, son. I missed you."

"I missed you too, Daddy!" Ian sits up and stares at Sherlock. "Where did you go?"

Sherlock frowns. "I just needed to…figure some things out, love. I'm sorry."

"Did you figure them out?"

Sherlock nods. "Yes, I did. And I will never need to ever again. I promise."

Ian nods. "Ok, Daddy!" Ian lies on Sherlock again.

"I love you, Ian."

"I love you too, Daddy."

After that, Sherlock never thinks of leaving again. He thinks of it as karma for leaving John that he was kidnapped, but John tells him otherwise. He found the men who kidnapped him three days after he gets home (and he's still very weak) and the men go to prison. Everything is fine for Sherlock after that, and he never feels insecure again.

_***I like when people break up for some reason. But everything is ok! **_


	42. Chapter 42: 42

**42**

The first time it happened, Sherlock ignored it. That's what usually happens when he doesn't understand something: he ignores it. That actually happens pretty often now that his son is old enough to know things; Ian might say something having to do with popular culture or even the school lessons he learned that day and Sherlock just shrugs and moves on because he doesn't understand.

Then he started to pay attention. Ian started saying things and Sherlock asked, "Huh? Wha?" But of course Ian didn't explain it, he's only six-years-old, he doesn't have the patience to teach his daddy trivia.

And now it bothers Sherlock. Ian might mention something, say a certain line, and Sherlock will burst back at him with, "What are you talking about?!"

Like now. Sherlock's sitting at the sitting room desk thinking out loud and hardly even realizing Ian's in the room.

"But why did the wife use an ice pick…?" Sherlock wonders out loud.

"She forgot her towel—" Ian says from his spot in John's chair.

"—And the window. The window was open but the body was warm—"

"—Because of the infinite probability drive—"

"—But the blood on her shirt was dry—"

"—They were on Nagrathea—"

Finally Sherlock caught him. "What the hell are you going on about?!" he shouts at his son.

"The end of the world!" Ian shouts back.

"Well, that's ridiculous where did you hear that—"

"From the dolphins!"

"What does that even mean, where did you get this—"

"Because it _must _be Thursday!"

Just then, John walks in. He says hello to his boys and goes to the kitchen to unpack grocery bags.

They ignore him.

Sherlock stands from his spot at the desk and looms over Ian. "What does _Thursday _have to do with anything?!"

Ian stands on the chair and stares his daddy in the face. "He can never get the hang of Thursdays!"

From the kitchen, John bursts into a fit of laughter. Unlike Sherlock, he always hears when Ian is speaking and for the most part he knows what Ian's talking about. John decides to stop the madness and goes to them. "Hey, hey," he says as he approaches. "What's going on?"

"Ian keeps speaking gibberish about...oh, I don't know! Thursdays or some rubbish!"

John laughs. "Son," he turns to Ian who looks back at him with the most obedience. "What's the answer to the universe?"

Ian looks back at Sherlock and shouts right in his face, "FORTY-TWO!" Then, Ian hops off the chair and trots to the kitchen.

Sherlock shouts in frustration and tugs lightly at his hair. "You two just do this to rile me up! You're probably not even talking about anything!"

John laughs after Ian shouts from the kitchen, "So long and thanks to all the fish!"

Sherlock shouts again and storms to their bedroom.

John joins Ian in the kitchen. "How many times have you watched Hitchhiker's Guide today?"

"Three times."

John sighs. "I should not have bought it on the iPad."

Ian grins and heads upstairs with the iPad.

_***It's my 42**__**nd**__** chapter on this story and to me, 42 will forever mean my favorite movie Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Read it. Watch it. Love it. **_


	43. Chapter 43: Gifts

**Gifts**

John promised he'd take Ian Christmas shopping the Saturday before Christmas. Of course John knew the lines would be ridiculous, but that was his first day off before the holiday. They were swamped at the clinic.

Ian counted down until Saturday. He was so excited, and when Friday rolled around he was too excited to go to school.

"Why can't it be Saturday? Why can't we go today?" the five year old asked his Dad as they ate breakfast.

"I have to go to work and you have to do to school."

"Why can't Daddy take me?"

John glanced back towards their bedroom; Sherlock wasn't even awake yet. "Daddy's actually busy today."

Ian sighed out a disappointed breath and slumped in his chair. "Alright," he muttered. "But tomorrow? Early right?"

"Yes. Tomorrow."

Ian wakes early Saturday morning. He'd made sure he fell asleep early Friday night so he'd wake up early Saturday morning. His body and mind did not fail him; he hops out of bed at 6:45 AM.

He tiptoes down to his Dads' bedroom as quietly as he can. He slowly pushes the door open and tiptoes to the bed. John is sleeping on his back with one hand on Sherlock's hip, and Sherlock's back is facing John, so Ian decides to delicately climb onto the bed and crawl onto John's chest.

John stirs under Ian and smiles. As he wakes, he rests his hands on Ian's back. Ian leans down and presses his nose to John's. "Dad," he whispers.

"Good morning, son," John says. He wraps his arms around Ian and pulls Ian so he's resting completely on John, his face nestled in John's neck. "Go back to sleep."

"But we have to go shopping," Ian pleads.

John glances at the bedside clock. "It's too early, Ian. Shops don't even open for a few more hours."

John can feel Ian's frown. "Ok," Ian mutters, closing his eyes.

John wakes up three hours later to a loud thump on the other side of the bed. He immediately opens his eyes to see Sherlock darting up from the floor and Ian happily –still sleeping- on Sherlock's pillow. Sherlock stares down at his son with a very annoyed face.

John chuckles. "Again?"

Sherlock reaches down and picks Ian up, then slides back into the bed. "That one actually hurt," Sherlock says.

John smiles at Sherlock cuddling up against Ian and decides he'd better get up to start their day. He leans over and kisses Sherlock, then gets out of bed and goes to the shower.

While he's in the shower, Ian wakes up and he and Sherlock migrate to the kitchen. Sherlock makes Ian cereal and they sit at the table.

When John gets out, Sherlock and Ian are sitting at the table bickering.

"Yes, Daddy! It is, I promise!" Ian shouts.

"No, Ian. I promise. It's next week!"

"Hey, hey," John stops the fighting. "What's going on?"

"Daddy said Christmas is _next _week!"

John laughs. "He did, did he?"

"I _know _it's in…" Ian counts on his fingers, "Three days!"

John leans down and kisses Ian's head, then steps around the table. "Daddy just knows he's not getting any presents," John says, leaning down to kiss Sherlock's cheek.

"Is Daddy on the naughty list?"

John laughs again. "Yes, he is. Now hurry up, we've got shops to visit!"

Ian eats the rest of his cereal and runs upstairs to get dressed. Half an hour later, he emerges wearing his usual jeans, last year's Christmas jumper, and his favorite red rain boots. "I'm ready!" he announces in his dads' doorway as Sherlock buttons his own shirt.

Sherlock turns around and laughs at Ian's boots. "It's not even raining out, Ian."

"It might, you never know."

Sherlock laughs again. "Fair enough," he says.

John walks out of the bathroom right at that moment. "Ian, why are you wearing those? It's not going to rain, love."

"You never know!" Ian shouts, stomping out of the room and going to the sitting room.

Finally John and Ian leave the house and get into a cab.

"So, Ian," John starts, "Any ideas of what you want to get everyone?"

"Well," Ian thinks, "I think I want to get Uncle Mycroft a new tie. Because some are so pretty, like with stripes!"

John smiles. "That sounds like a nice gift. What else?"

"For Uncle Greg…" he taps his chin and thinks. "How 'bout I give him Uncle Mycroft!" Ian jokes.

John laughs hard at this. "That would be a nice gift," he agrees.

"Hmm," Ian thinks again. "For Uncle Greg…how about a really nice coffee cup? He always has coffee at our house."

"That's a great idea, son. What about how Mrs. Hudson?"

"How about…" Ian taps his chin in thought. John smiles at the tiny Sherlock image next to him. "Let's get her a new apron to bake in. She likes to bake!"

"That sounds nice. Who else did you want to buy for?"

"Uhm…Daddy?"

"Oh, sure. What do you want to get Daddy?"

"I don't know. Let's find him something cool!"

They stop at the first shop and after searching through every single tie available, Ian settles on a red and white striped tie that looks like a candy cane. He loves it, so John buys it and they go to the next shop to find a coffee mug for Greg. Again, after searching through every mug they find the perfect one. It's blue and it says "Worlds Best Uncle".

"Don't you think Uncle Mycroft might be a bit hurt by that?" John asks.

Ian shrugs. "Probably not," he answers.

John shrugs and pays for the mug.

After the mug, they stop for a small lunch. They eat and chat about Ian's last day of school before winter break and how excited he is to go back after Christmas. John loves that his son enjoys going to school.

As they're finishing their meal, Ian looks at John with the biggest begging eyes he's ever seen. "Dad," he quietly says, "Caaaaan we find a toy store? Maybe?"

"A toy store? I'm not buying _you _anything, Ian, we're shopping for everyone else."

"Well, what if I find Daddy a toy that he can play with me?"

John can't argue with that logic. They find a toy store.

Ian wanders the toy store for an hour. He looks at every single toy, and John's excited to see that every few toys he drifts back to the one John got him for Christmas.

"I want Santa to bring me this," Ian mentions after the fifth time he looks at it.

John smiles. "If you're a good boy he might, got it? Now, we're finding something for your Daddy, remember?"

Ian happily leaves John in search of a gift. Twenty minutes later he finds John with something behind his back and a very, very large smile.

"What have you got there?" John asks.

"The best present ever!"

"Oh yeah? Prove it."

Ian pulls from behind his back a round, plush pillow about two sizes larger than his own head that looks like a bee. He beams at it with stars in his eyes.

"Oh my," John says. "Where did you find that?"

"Around the corner with other pillows like this. Do you think Daddy would like it?"

"Yes, I think he would!"

Ian smiles at it again.

They leave the store with the bee pillow and find a store to get Mrs. Hudson a new apron. Ian quickly picks one with pink flowers all over it, and right after that they go home.

The ride is quiet until John looks over at his son and notices large tears swelling in Ian's eyes. Ian won't let them fall, but John can tell he's very upset.

"Ian, what is it? What's wrong?"

Ian's bottom lip sticks out and quivers. "I..I didn't find you—" he sniffles, "A present." Finally tears fall down his rosy cheeks.

"Oh, Ian!" John exclaims and wraps his arm around Ian. "It's ok, love! Really! I don't need a present! I just want to be with you!"

Ian sniffles and looks up at John. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I forgot!"

John squeezes Ian as best he can in the cab. "It's ok, love. It is, I promise. I don't need anything, ok?" John takes Ian's chin in hand and kisses Ian's forehead.

Ian's tears slow and he snuggles up to John. In short minutes he's asleep.

They arrive at 221B and John delicately takes the boy and their bags up to the flat. Ian remains asleep, so John takes Ian to his bed to resume his nap.

"How was shopping?" Sherlock asks John as John arrives downstairs. Sherlock's peeking through their shopping bags.

"Out of there!" John gets Sherlock away before he finds his own gift.

Sherlock chuckles. "It went well, then? He's out."

"We had a long day," John admits. "He had a great time, though."

"I'm sure you did."

"You could have joined us, you know."

"I could have."

John rolls his eyes and takes the gifts to keep in their bedroom.

The next day, Ian tells Sherlock he forgot to get John a gift, so Sherlock decides to take Ian out to shop. Ian ends up finding John a small electronic tablet that you use to write notes so he can keep notes on cases for the blog. Ian thinks it's brilliant, and John ends up loving it. Sherlock ends up loving –and sleeping with- his bee pillow.


	44. Chapter 44: New Years Eve

**New Years Eve**

"Ian get your boots off the table," John says as he walks in to the sitting room.

Ian slides his boots off the table. "They're brand new anyway, Dad. I haven't even worn them outside."

"You just wanted them to look at?"

"Look at them, they're beautiful."

John chuckles at his teenager and sits in his chair.

Ian clears his throat and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Look Dad, I was wondering…"

John folds his newspaper and looks at Ian. "What is it?"

"You see, it's just that I'm older now, and my friends…well _they're _going out on New Years Eve, and I was just…"

"You want to go, too?"

Ian nods.

"Who are _they _and where are _they _going?"

"You know, Henry, Tom, Bill, Leslie, Tony—"

"Oh, Leslie is going, huh?" Leslie is Ian's girlfriend. "Her parents are alright with her going out tomorrow?"

Ian shrugs. "She said she can go, so I guess they are."

"Maybe we'll all go out, then," John says as Sherlock enters the room.

"Go out where?" Sherlock asks.

"New Years out on the town."

Both Sherlock and Ian make the same face of disgust.

"What's that face for?" John demands.

"Going out," Sherlock mutters.

"Going out with _me," _Ian sulks, falling back against the sofa.

John rolls his eyes. "Alright, alright, you big babies. You can go, as long as you call every single hour on the hour and get home by one o'clock. Got it?"

The sixteen-year-old sits up with excitement and nods vigorously. "You mean it, Dad?"

"Yeah, yeah. I guess you're old enough. And you're responsible and smart. And I hope that after tomorrow night those adjectives don't change."

Ian jumps off the sofa and hugs John. "Thanks Dad, I won't let you down! I promise!"

John hugs back. "I know, son."

They next night, John and Sherlock watch Ian get ready to go out. He hums as he stands in the bathroom brushing his teeth and washing his face, then John goes to stand in the doorway as Ian combs his hair and tames the wild mop with smoothing oil.

"You look just like your dad," John fondly says to the boy.

Ian's reflection smiles at John. "Yeah? I guess that's a good thing then, right? People are always ogling over father."

John rolls his eyes. "And I want to slug those people."

Ian laughs. "Don't worry, Dad. I'm sure father wouldn't even know what was going on if someone propositioned him. Didn't it take you years to get together?"

"Yes," John agrees. "Simpler time then."

Ian laughs again. He runs his hand through his hair one more time and turns to John. "Ok, I'm ready. How do I look?"

"Fantastic, son. Really handsome."

Ian smiles. "Thanks, Dad. I'll be back at one, I promise." Ian leaves the restroom.

John follows him. "You'd better, young man. No drinking either, please."

"No problem, Dad," Ian says, pulling his coat off the rack.

"And be a gentleman, please. But Leslie a hot chocolate or something."

Ian grins. "I've got it all planned out, Dad."

* * *

><p>Ian leaves the house at 10 o'clock and heads to Leslie's house. Though he did originally plan on meeting up with all of his friends, he told them to go on without him because he wanted to spend time alone with Leslie.<p>

When she opens the door to her home, she calls to her parents that she's off then joins Ian outside.

"Why, don't you look handsome, Ian Watson-Holmes!"

Ian shyly smiles. "Thank you," he nervously says, "Thank you, so do you. You look beautiful."

Leslie twirls as they walk down the street, her light blue dress flows around her. "Do you like my dress? I bought it this afternoon."

"It's a great dress," he says. "Aren't you cold?"

Leslie buttons her coat and slides her arm around Ian's so they link together. "Not anymore," she says, snuggling close to him as they walk down the street.

Ian and Leslie walk back to the Baker Street Underground station and take the tube all the way down near Big Ben. On their ride they talk about school and not being ready for their break to end, and when they stop they walk across Westminster Bridge to Jubilee Gardens. There, they find a café to get the hot chocolate that John advised.

"You're really something, Ian Watson-Holmes," she says, blowing in her cup to cool it.

"Something, what?" he prompts.

"Something special," she says, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek.

The couple walk around through the crowds of people, never for a second unlinking hands.

An hour after he left, Ian calls John to let him know where he is. He doesn't mention that he and Leslie are alone, either, but he's confident that his dad wouldn't be upset if he finds out.

* * *

><p>John hangs up with Ian and checks his watch. It's 11 o'clock, and he's not tired or in the mood to watch television. John sits up and slips his shoes on. "Let's go out," he announces.<p>

"Out where?" Sherlock demands.

"Out…out. Ian said he's wandering around Jubilee Gardens. Let's go over."

"No," is all Sherlock says.

"Come on, love. It'll be fun."

"No," Sherlock says again. "People. No."

"Fine," John stands and heads for the door. He grabs his coat. "I'll go alone. And who knows who I'll be kissing at midnight."

Sherlock's head snaps to John. He glares.

John gives him a look like, 'What-are-you-going-to-do?'.

Sherlock huffs and pulls off his dressing gown, then pulls on his jacket and follows John.

* * *

><p>Ian and Leslie walk around for a while through the crowds of people. They try to talk but the celebrations around them are so loud.<p>

"Have you come here for New Years Eve before?" Ian asks.

"Once, with my parents. Have you?"

Ian shakes his head. "No, my dads are stay at home people."

"I see," Leslie says. "This is more fun than with my parents." She gives Ian a sly grin.

Ian smiles at her. "Yeah. This is better than sitting at home," he agrees.

She stares at him for a few seconds, then says, "I really like you, Ian."

"Yeah?" His heart flutters and he smiles down at her. "I really like you, too."

She gives him a wide smile, and at this he leans down to kiss her. She closes her eyes as if she's going to let him, but right as he's about to touch her lips, she pulls away giggling. He opens his eyes and stares as she runs away into the crowd of people. He laughs and follows her, eventually catching her and grabbing her hand again.

* * *

><p>John and Sherlock arrive at Jubilee Gardens right before 11:30. Sherlock scowls at the people and John happily walks through the crowd. Though he isn't one for crowds either, he and Sherlock haven't done New Years since far before Ian was born, so he's happy to be out with his husband. He takes hold of Sherlock's hand and pulls him close when he sees Sherlock trailing away.<p>

"This is boring, John," Sherlock mutters.

John lets go of Sherlock's hand. "Then go home."

Guilt sinks in to Sherlock's gut and he frowns at the ground. He takes hold of John's hand and again. "No, I'd rather stay with you."

John smiles and kisses Sherlock's cheek. "We'll have fun, ok? I promise. Let's go embarrass our son."

John and Sherlock wander for not even ten minutes before they spot Ian.

"There's Ian!" Sherlock says, pointing to Ian and Leslie cuddling close together in a crowd of people.

"And there's Leslie, but…" John looks around. "Where are his friends?"

Sherlock looks around after John. "I don't see any other young people we know."

John looks at Sherlock. "He tricked us," John states.

"He lied?"

"Well," John thinks that over. He's surprisingly not that angry at his son for lying. "I suppose he did."

"Should we confront him?"

Just then, Ian says something to Leslie which makes her giggle, then he leans close to her and kisses her nose. She giggles again and beams at him as if he's the most magnificent thing she's ever seen. John knows they've never told each other they love each other, even Ian knows he's far too young for love, but John sees how much they absolutely adore each other. It warms his heart.

"No," John says, "We can talk to him later. Let him enjoy his evening."

Sherlock nods and they continue walking around the crowds.

* * *

><p>"Where'd you learn to be so sweet?" Leslie asks.<p>

Ian's hands tighten around her waist as they sway to the music.

"I was born this way, baby," he jokes, flipping his messy mop of hair.

Leslie laughs. "You're funny. But really! How many other kids our age are dancing in the middle of Jubilee Gardens right now?"

Ian looks around. "None, I suppose."

"Which makes you the sweetest sixteen-year-old in London."

Ian smiles. His hands rake over her arms, he holds her hands around his neck. "Because I have a reason to be," he says. He leans in close to kiss her, but she giggles and ducks out of his arms. "Hey!" he shouts at her as she runs away again.

He catches her and checks his watch, then realizes it's 11:57. "Oh man, it's three minutes to midnight!"

"What are we going to do for the rest of the year?!"

Ian laughs at her joke. "Do you have a New Years Resolution?"

Leslie shakes her head. "No, not really. I just want to try to study harder so I can get in to Uni."

"You'll have no problem."

"Thanks, but I do need to try harder! What about you? Any resolutions?"

"Let's see," Ian thinks that over. "I don't know. I guess I should study harder—"

At this Leslie rolls her eyes. "Please, you are the smartest person I know. You don't need to study."

Ian smiles. "Really? You think I'm smart."

"Duh! You're, like, a genius!"

"Well, I wouldn't say genius, but—"

Leslie grabs Ian's hand and checks his watch. "One minute! Anything before the year ends?"

"No, I'm pretty content."

Leslie smiles. "Good, me too."

They smile at each other for what seems like an eternity before they hear the crowds around them shouting, "Ten…Nine…Eight…"

Then, they join in, "Seven…Six…Five…Four…Three…Two…One…"

And right before everyone shouts, "Happy New Year!", right as Leslie is leaning up to kiss Ian, Ian turns and runs away from her.

"Ian Watson-Holmes!" she squeals and takes off after him.

* * *

><p>Away from the kids, Sherlock and John happily countdown the last ten seconds with the rest of the crowd. When everyone shouts, "Happy New Year!" John looks up at Sherlock and smiles.<p>

"Happy New Year, love," he says.

"Happy New Year, John."

They meet in the middle and share a short, sweet kiss. They break apart and smile at each other, then they hear a girl shout, "Ian Watson-Holmes!"

John and Sherlock look around until Sherlock spots Ian hiding behind a couple. He tugs John's arm and John turns on time to see Leslie step around the couple and Ian jump out at her. Leslie jumps in shock, but laughs, and Ian grabs the girl and kisses her.

* * *

><p>This time Leslie doesn't break away or giggle or anything, she presses her hand against Ian's cheek and happily kisses him back. He holds her close and kisses her –closed mouthed— until he needs air.<p>

"You sneaky boy," Leslie fondly jokes.

"I try," he says. He takes her hand and twirls her under his arm if they were dancing, then spins her into his arms and hugs her.

The two finally notice the fireworks going off around them, so they break apart and stare at the sky.

* * *

><p>John and Sherlock watch the couple until they, too, notice the fireworks. They exchange a fond smile at each other, then look up at the sky.<p>

At the exact same moment, Sherlock and Ian wrap an arm around John and Leslie.

* * *

><p>When the fireworks end, Ian takes his phone out. "I've got to check in with my dad," he explains, then dials.<p>

Of course John can see him, so he answers with a smile on his face. "Enjoying your night?" John asks.

"Yes, Dad. Happy New Year!" Ian exclaims over the connection.

"Happy New Year, love. See you at home," he says.

"At home?" Ian asks. "Where are you?"

"Oh, uh, Dad and I stepped out for a bit. We'll beat you home, though."

"Great. See you soon."

John hangs up and Sherlock stares at him. "Why didn't you tell him we're here?"

"I don't want him to think we were spying on him."

"We're not?"

"Well," John shrugs. "We're not spying. We're just…admiring our fine young gentleman from afar."

Sherlock looks back at Ian and Leslie. "We have done a fine job," Sherlock admits.

"Of course we have."

* * *

><p>John and Sherlock leave ten minutes after midnight, but Ian and Leslie stick around for ten minutes longer. Finally, Ian checks his watch and asks if Leslie is ready to leave.<p>

"Yes, I told my parents I'd be back by one."

"I did, too," Ian says. "Did they put up a fight to let you come out?"

"No," Leslie says. "Not really. My parents trust me."

"Mine, too."

The kids walk back to the nearest Underground station, then ride up to Baker Street. Leslie doesn't live too far away from Ian, so they walk to her house just as they had when they left her house.

"I had a really great time tonight," Leslie says as they turn onto her street.

"Yeah? I'm glad. I had a great time, too."

"The hot chocolate was a bit rubbish," she adds.

Ian stops and throws his arms in the air. "Ruin the whole evening, would you?!" he jokes.

Leslie grabs his coat and pulls him down the street. "I'm kidding!"

Ian laughs and grabs her hand. "Do you want to go on a date this week? Say, Friday night?"

"Aren't you so sly, Ian Watson-Holmes. Of course, I'd love to!"

They approach her door and she turns to him.

"Great, I'll see you Friday, then," he says.

They link hands while facing each other. "I really did have an amazing evening," she says.

"I did, too. I don't really want it to end." Ian presses his forehead against hers.

"I don't either, but you need to get home before you get in trouble."

He pulls away. "You're right. Friday, for sure."

"Friday," she agrees.

They nervously stare at each other for a minute before she finally stands on her toes and quickly kisses him. It's a short, sweet peck that Ian always loves the best.

"See you soon, Ian Watson-Holmes," she says, letting go of his hands and turning to unlock her front door.

"See you," he says, and as she disappears into the house, he leaves.

* * *

><p>Ian walks up the stairs to their flat long after John and Sherlock do, but still before 1 o'clock.<p>

"I'm home," he calls out. He rounds the corner to the kitchen and sees his dads break apart from a kiss. "Ugh," Ian groans, going to the refrigerator. "I hate when you do that."

"Give us more warning, then," John says. He picks up his cup of tea and sips while Ian rummages around the fridge.

"What are these, Dad? Toes?"

"Yes, but only toes of left feet," Sherlock says.

Ian puts the bag back in the refrigerator. "I don't even want to know," he mutters.

"How was your evening?" John asks.

"It was…fine," Ian decides to go with. "It was fun, thank you for letting me go alone."

John and Sherlock exchange a knowing glance as Ian turns out of the fridge.

"And how is Leslie?" John asks.

"Leslie? Uh…" Ian nervously fumbles over thoughts. "She's…she's great…yeah…"

Sherlock chuckles at his son.

"Good. Well, I'm glad you had a good time," John says. He pours his tea out. "I'm off to bed. See you in the morning," he passes Ian and gives the boy a kiss on the cheek.

"Happy New Year, Dad," he says.

"Happy New Year," John calls back as he enters his and Sherlock's bedroom.

* * *

><p>Sherlock goes to bed minutes after Ian does and John is still awake.<p>

"Why didn't we confront him about lying, John?"

John shrugs. "I don't know. He's a good kid, Sherlock. It's not like he lied and went off to a party. He was where he told us he'd be and he _did _say Leslie would be there."

Sherlock nods. "He was quite the gentleman."

John nods.

"I think he learned it from me," Sherlock states as he slips into bed and pulls the blankets off of John.

John pulls his share of the blankets off of Sherlock. "Guess again," he says as he closes his eyes and fall asleep.

* * *

><p>Up in his bed, Ian sends one last text to Leslie before bed.<p>

"Goodnight," is all it says. He knows how much she loves goodnight texts.

"Goodnight, Ian Watson-Holmes," she sends back seconds later.

Ian falls asleep with happy thoughts and a wide smile on his face.

* * *

><p><em><strong>*<strong>_**thatlittlegoodgirl **_**asked for older Ian things, so I hope this is good. He's a sweetie : ) **_


	45. Chapter 45

Thunderstorms at 221B are the worst. The building is rickety enough that the crash of thunder makes everything shake. Thunderstorms are terrible in 221B, especially for a three year old.

Everyone's sound asleep in 221B, the rain is roughly splattering against every window and thunder is crackling everywhere.

The thunder began after Ian went to bed, so John and Sherlock went to bed confident that he'd sleep through it. Unfortunately, the thunder gets so loud that it wakes Sherlock, which wakes John.

"I should just go get him," Sherlock says. "He's going to wake up any minute now."

"He'll sleep through it, ok? Go back to sleep."

Sherlock rolls over and closes his eyes. Not five seconds later, there's a very, very loud crack accompanied by screaming from upstairs. Sherlock instantly shoots up.

"I told you," he says, getting out of bed and rushing upstairs.

Sherlock throws the door to Ian's room open and goes to the bed. Ian's hidden under all of his blankets, sobbing

"I'm here, I'm here," Sherlock whispers as he takes Ian from under the blankets and into his arms. "Shh, it's ok."

Ian cries and trembles in Sherlock's arms.

"Do you want to go downstairs with Dad?"

Ian is too scared to speak or move. He just clings to Sherlock. Sherlock lays down on Ian's bed instead, his feet hanging off the edge because he's far too tall. He tucks Ian to his side and wraps his arm around Ian.

"There, there," Sherlock tries to comfort him.

Soon, Ian's so exhausted from crying that he falls back to sleep. Sherlock can't move, so he falls asleep shortly after Ian.

An hour or so later, John wakes up and realizes Sherlock isn't there. Confused and groggy, he gets out of bed and goes upstairs to check if Sherlock's there.

When he opens the door, John stops dead in his tracks because the site is so adorable. Sherlock is curled up on his side with Ian in his arms, but Ian is awake and playing with Sherlock's hand.

"Dad!" Ian shouts as John comes into the room.

"Hi honey," John says, going to the bed. "What are you doing? Can't sleep?"

"The rain," Ian says, looking at the ceiling.

"Yeah, it's loud, huh? Do you want to come downstairs and sleep with me?"

Ian eagerly nods. John takes Ian in his arms and they look down at Sherlock.

"Should we take Daddy with us?"

Ian eagerly nods again.

John shakes Sherlock's shoulder. "Come on, love," he says, "Let's go back to bed."

"Hmm?" Sherlock sleepily opens his eyes and looks around for Ian. When he sees him in John's arms, he stumbles out of the bed and lets John lead him downstairs.

They get back to John and Sherlock's bed and Sherlock falls in it and almost instantly falls asleep. John delicately places Ian next to Sherlock, then he slides in.

"Go to sleep," John says to Ian, who is very awake and staring at him.

"Ok," Ian says, closing his eyes and pretend snoring.

John laughs. "I love you."

Ian takes John's face in his little hands and kisses John. "Yuv you, Dad," he says.

John smiles and closes his eyes. He sleeps very happily through the thunderstorm.


	46. Chapter 46: Valentine's Day

John always, always tries to make Valentine's Day special for the love of his life: his son, Ian. Sherlock's never been one for Valentine's Day, ever, so when Ian was born, John found that he finally had a permanent Valentine.

Every year, John gets Ian gifts. They're little gifts, usually some things like coloring books or paints or a new football. Or it's something Ian needs like a new pair of shoes or a new coat. He loves buying things for Ian, and Valentine's Day is the perfect excuse to do so.

Unfortunately, Valentine's Day this year falls on a Saturday when John is at work. Ian is seven, and by now he's used to Valentine's Day traditions.

Ian wakes up next to Sherlock and violently stretches his body. He's not happy that his father has gone to work, and he already senses that Sherlock's going to screw this up.

Ian turns over onto John's pillow and sees his first gift. He smiles and sits up, taking the little box in his hands. He pulls the ribbon apart and opens the lid, and inside is a silver slinky.

"Wow," Ian mutters, taking the toy out of the box. He takes both ends in either hand and juggles it between. "Cool!"

Sherlock hears him shout with amazement. He rolls over onto his back and throws his arm around Ian's waist. "Mmmm," Sherlock sighs himself awake. "What'd you get, son?"

"A slinky!"

"Mmm," Sherlock mutters, turning onto his side facing Ian. "What time it is?"

"7:40."

Sherlock groans. "Where's Dad?"

"He's gone to work," Ian states. He wasn't awake to see John leave, but he of course he remembered that John had to work today.

Sherlock groans again. "Go back to sleep."

"I'm not tired!"

Sherlock wraps his other arm around Ian and pull Ian down onto the bed. He curls around Ian as Ian tries to escape.

"Let me go!" Ian shouts. "You monster!"

Sherlock chuckles. "Come on, just another hour. Please? Daddy's tired."

"Ugh!" Ian continues to struggle. Finally, he stops and lets Sherlock hold him. "I have to pee," he says after a minute.

Sherlock instantly lets him go. Ian hops off the bed and runs to the restroom, then returns minutes later and jumps on Sherlock.

Sherlock groans loudly into his pillow.

"I found this in the loo," Ian says.

Sherlock opens his eyes. "What?"

"It's a letter. It was taped to the mirror."

"Well? What does it say?"

Ian easily reads it. "_Dear Ian_," he reads, "_Don't let Daddy sleep all morning. Tell him to make you pancakes. He knows where your next present is, and you'll get it after you clean your bedroom. I love you! Please don't give Daddy any trouble today. See you tonight. Love, Dad_."

Ian looks over at Sherlock with a 'ha-ha' face. Sherlock sits up and takes the note from Ian, then reads it over. He lets out a deep sigh.

"Fine," he says. "Let's go get your damn pancakes."

"Dad says not to say damn," Ian says as Sherlock gets out of bed.

"Dad doesn't want _you _to say damn," Sherlock says.

They get to the kitchen and Ian sits at the table. Sherlock gets the pancake mix out and the few ingredients he needs to make the batter, then starts the stove.

"Did you have a party at school yesterday?" Sherlock asks as he begins making the pancakes.

"Yes," Ian says. "I took Valentine cards to everybody in class, and I got a lot back."

"Did you? What else?"

"We watched a movie. And had snacks. It was fun."

"Mmm," Sherlock mutters. "Did you get a lot of candy?"

"Oh, yeah. Dad put it in the cupboard."

Sherlock nods. "Do you like Valentine's Day?"

"I _love _Valentine's Day."

Sherlock chuckles. "Why?"

"Because Dad always gets me cool things. Does Dad get you cool things?"

Sherlock grins remembering a particular Valentine's Day where he and John didn't leave their bed once. "Yes, he gets me cool things."

Sherlock finishes the pancakes. He places them on a plate and sets them in front of Ian.

Ian smiles down at the plate of four small heart shaped pancakes. "How did you do that?!"

Sherlock places the heart cookie cutter in the sink before Ian can see it. "I'm magic," Sherlock says.

Ian smiles and digs in to his pancakes.

After breakfast, Ian runs upstairs to clean his room as John instructed. The reason he slept with his dads the night before was because his bed is covered with books. His floor is covered with all of his toys, and the whole room just needs to be cleaned.

Ian takes his time putting everything away. It takes him an hour to clean up, but mostly because he keeps pausing to play with things.

Finally, he finishes so he goes downstairs to collect his second gift.

"Is your bedroom clean?" Sherlock questions.

"Yes!"

Sherlock sighs. "Fine. Stay here, I'll go get it."

Ian sits on the sofa and waits while Sherlock goes back into his and John's room. When he returns, he has another small box. Ian smiles as Sherlock hands it to him.

Ian eagerly opens the box, which is wrapped in red wrapping paper, and tears the lid off. Inside is a large, red yo-yo. "Wow!" Ian says, tying the string to his finger and trying it out.

"That's cool, son," Sherlock says, watching him.

Ian nods and plays with it a while longer, then decides he wants to watch a movie. He chooses Toy Story 3, so Sherlock puts it in and Ian sits on the sofa happily watching.

When the movie is over, Ian decides he's hungry for lunch.

"I want grilled cheese," he demands.

"Excuse me?"

Ian sighs. "Please, can you make me grilled cheese?"

Sherlock nods and goes to the kitchen. Ian follows and once again takes a seat at the table.

"When will I get my third present?" Ian asks as Sherlock makes his sandwich.

"After lunch," Sherlock says.

Ian nods. "Did you get anything for my dad?"

Sherlock smiles. He always feels a certain joy when Ian says 'my dad'. "No," Sherlock answers. "I'm taking him to dinner tonight."

"Without me?"

"Yes."

"Like a date?"

Sherlock nods. "Yes." Sherlock turns around to look at Ian.

Ian frowns.

"Is that a problem?"

"I don't like when you go out without me."

"Why?"

"I feel lonely."

"You'll be with Mrs. Hudson."

"I want to be with you and Dad."

"Not tonight, Ian," Sherlock says.

Ian nods again and frowns. After a second, he says, "Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"You're burning my sandwich!"

Sherlock quickly turns around to the stove and sure enough, the sandwich is slightly smoking. "Shit!" Sherlock shouts, turning the stove off and lifting the pan to run it under cold water.

Ian appears next to him and peers into the sink. "You burned my damn sandwich!"

Sherlock swats him on the head with the spatula. "Don't say damn!"

Ian grunts in frustration. "_Please _make me another one!" he shouts.

"Don't be so bossy!"

"I said please!"

Sherlock looks down at his son. "Dad told you not to give me any trouble."

"Dad tells you _all the time _to watch when you're making my sandwiches."

Sherlock takes a deep breath. "Fine. Sit down. Don't distract me."

Ian nods and goes back to the table.

The second sandwich is made perfectly and Ian happily eats it. "This is good," he says once.

"Good," Sherlock says through gritted teeth.

After lunch, Sherlock gives Ian his next gift, which is a box of chocolates. Ian eagerly opens it and takes out only one chocolate, because that's all Sherlock tells him he can have. Ian happily eats it, and after that they decide to go to the park.

"I wish Dad could be here," Ian says as they're walking down the street.

"I know, son," Sherlock says, "Me too."

"When will he be home?"

"In a few hours."

Ian's entire body slumps into a frown. "Why does Dad have to work? You don't work."

"I do work!" Sherlock defends. "I take cases."

Ian sighs. "I wish you both didn't have to work."

"I know. I'm sorry. But if we didn't work, we wouldn't be able to afford your Valentine's Day gifts. Speaking of which," Sherlock says, "Are you ready for your next one?"

Ian happily smiles and nods.

Sherlock smiles back and drags his son through the park, stopping at an ice cream cart. Ian squeals as he gets a vanilla cone, and though it's cold outside, he eats it as happy as can be. Sherlock smiles at his son the entire time, just happy that Ian is happy.

They play in the park for an hour, then Ian decides he's tired. He doesn't take naps much, but Sherlock knows he woke up far earlier than usual. They go back to their home and Ian heads straight for his dads' bed.

Sherlock takes advantage of Ian's nap by getting some work done on an experiment he's doing. He's so into it that he doesn't even realize it's time for John to be home when John walks through the door.

"Hello, love," John says with a smile in his voice. Sherlock looks up to see his husband beaming at him. John bends to kiss Sherlock's cheek and he pulls away with a smile. "Where is Ian?"

"He's asleep. He woke me up very early this morning."

"Sorry, love, he just gets excited."

"I know."

"Did you give him the gifts?"

"I did. He loved them, of course."

John smiles wide. "Good. How long has he been asleep?"

"About an hour and a half. I'm sure he'll be up soon."

John nods. "Perfect."

John goes to the restroom, and the sound of the toilet wakes Ian. He hops out of bed and runs to the kitchen, and seconds later, John returns.

"Dad!" Ian shouts. "I missed you!"

John takes Ian in a tight hug. "I missed you too, my little Valentine."

"I thought I was your Valentines," Sherlock says as John sets Ian on a chair at the table.

Ian grins and sticks his tongue out at Sherlock.

John swats Ian's head and laughs. "You both are, ok?"

Sherlock grins back at Ian and sticks his tongue out, too.

A while later, Sherlock and John go to dinner while Ian stays with Mrs. Hudson. Ian doesn't mind being left behind because of all the presents he got. He is very happy and has a very happy Valentine's Day.

_***Happy late Valentine's Day! I love Valentine's Day, so here's a little thing about Ian and Sherlock's day. Thanks for reading!**_


	47. Chapter 47: Repeat

When Ian began to speak in full sentences -right before he turned three- he took up the habit of repeating everything he heard.

To the general public he'd repeat things he thought were interesting. Standing in the street he'd eavesdrop phone calls and repeat details of the phone calls.

"Milk, eggs, butter, bread," he heard one man mutter into his phone. "Yes honey, I got it!"

"Milk...eggs...butter...bread," Ian repeated twice.

John looked down at his boy and smiled.

The man hung up when John pulled Ian into his arms, and the man began running the list back to himself.

"Milk, eggs, butter..." he forgot the last.

But Ian remembered, having been repeating it since he heard the man say it. "Bread!" he shouted at full volume.

The man looked at Ian and smiled. "Thanks mate," he said to the little kid. "Thought I'd have to call my wife back, she gets loud when I forget the bread."

John laughed then, so Ian laughed too. "I understand fully," John joked.

As for his Dad, Ian repeated things that were shouted, things that John says when Ian knows he's angry. John claims he doesn't shout things nearly as much as anyone thinks, he isn't filled with nearly as much rage as everyone expects, but his son just so happens to be around each time something makes him yell.

For example, yesterday John poured the boiling hot water too much into his mug, so the water sloshed over the side and into his hand.

"Son of a bitch, that hurts!" John shouted. He thought it was to himself, that he was quiet enough that Ian and Sherlock wouldn't hear him from the sofa, but Ian heard him.

"Son of a bitch!" Ian repeated.

Sherlock tried not to laugh, but a small chuckle escaped his lips. "Ian, we don't say those words."

"Only Dad?" Ian questioned.

This made Sherlock laugh. "Yes, only Dad can say those words."

Ian thought about this and went back to playing with his toys.

The very next day, John went to work as usual, leaving Sherlock and Ian alone in the flat all day. It was quiet, no cases, not even any phone calls.

John arrived home at his usual time, today storming up the stairs loudly.

"Damn it, Sherlock!" John yelled as he entered their sitting room. "I've told you never to switch our mobiles again!"

"I wanted a peaceful day, John," Sherlock cooly replied.

"All day this stupid thing has been going off," John tossed the phone to Sherlock. "Calls from your brother, emails from Lestrade, Donovan called, and even Molly texted. If you want quiet, turn the bloody thing off!"

"But this way I wasn't tempted to turn it on."

"Then tell everyone to bugger off! It drove me crazy all day!"

"John," Sherlock simply said, "Why didn't you just turn it off?"

John stopped, defeated. He just turned into their kitchen to wash up before saying a proper hello. "Damn it, Sherlock," he muttered one more time as he left.

Sherlock grinned.

Ian looked up at his Daddy. "Damn it, Sherlock!" he shouted.

Sherlock frowned. "Ian, what did I say about those w-"

Ian cut him off. "Damn it, Sherlock!"

Sherlock threw himself onto the sofa and sulked.

John returned to the living room, seeing Sherlock's sulking body. He went to the sofa. "Gee, love, I'm sorry. Those stupid phones just got to me all day, I-"

"It's not you, John, it's..." Sherlock pointed at Ian.

As if on cue, Ian said, "Damn it, Sherlock!"

John started to laugh. "Sorry, Sherlock. But...I guess that'll teach you."

Sherlock glared at John, then turned his back to them.

John took Ian with him into the kitchen for some tea and a snack. When John opened the refrigerator, seeing that there was no milk, he said, "Ugh, there's no milk!"

To which Ian replied, "Damn it, Sherlock!"


	48. Chapter 48: Diapers

Screaming tears through the flat, ripping John from an intense dream about fighting flamingoes. He lifts his head and reads the bedside clock through barely open eyes. 1:36, the clock reads.

John sighs and gets out of the bed, glancing back at his sound asleep husband as he moves.

He gets over to the baby's bassinet, parked at the foot of their bed.

"Hello, you," he says to the tiny boy squirming there.

When John touches the baby, he slightly calms. The screaming turns into a loud coo'ing, and when John smells the dirty diaper, he knows why the baby is complaining.

"Come on, love," John whispers to his son. "Let's get you clean."

John lays the baby on the changing table feet away. He removes the baby's pajama bottoms and unclamps the onesie, wincing at the more intense scent of the diaper.

"Oh boy," John sighs.

The baby coo's in response.

John gets the baby clean and the diaper disposed of, then reaches for a new diaper. He finds the diaper basket empty.

"Ahh bugger," John mutters.

Placing one hand on the baby so he doesn't roll away, John kneels to check for a new box of diapers where they usually are on the shelf under the changing table. Unluckily, there is not a new box there.

John sighs, realizing he sent Sherlock to buy some this afternoon and Sherlock probably left them unpacked on the kitchen table.

John wraps a washcloth around the baby and takes him into the kitchen. There are no bags from the shop, no new food products anywhere; Sherlock didn't go shopping.

John sighs in frustration and runs a hand over his face. "Perfect," he says to the baby cradled against his chest.

John takes the baby to the sitting room to search for a diaper in the diaper bag. Of course there isn't one there, that'd all be too easy for John.

He remembers they usually keep an extra in the bathroom, but to John's misfortune, there is not one in there.

John thinks of and checks all the places there could be an extra, but the entire flat is sans diaper.

He grows very angry with Sherlock, it really being his fault there are none. Sherlock had absolutely nothing on today, whereas John had to go to work. Along with that, John worked all day and is very tired, but Sherlock rested all day with the baby.

John decides to get Sherlock up to make him go buy diapers. He smacks Sherlock's back with a pillow to wake him up.

"What?" Sherlock demands into his pillow.

"Go buy diapers, you lazy sod."

Sherlock grunts. "No."

"Your son is currently bare from the waist down because you couldn't go buy him diapers today. Now, get your bony arse out of this bed and go to Tesco, or he's sleeping on top of you just in case he pees in his sleep."

Sherlock growls this time, throwing himself up into a sitting position. "You're mean," he mutters, reaching for his shoes that were discarded next to the bed hours previous.

"Hey genius, just because he's going commando doesn't mean you can," John says, bending and picking up Sherlock's underpants.

Sherlock glances down at the sheet covering his lower half, the only thing he 'has on', then snatches his pants from John.

Sherlock dresses, but only partially as himself. He puts on the jeans he was wearing, John's gray under t-shirt he wore to work, his own suit jacket (John watches wondering why, but he doesn't stop Sherlock), then his coat.

"Hurry back!" John calls as Sherlock exits their bedroom.

Sherlock glares and refrains from giving his husband The Finger as he leaves.

Sherlock gets to the nearest shop and goes in, blinking many times to adjust his eyes to the fluorescent lights.

A worker watches as he does so. He takes in the disheveled looking man, he thinks maybe the man is drunk. This makes him watch the man closely as the man makes his way through the store. Once he loses site of the man, he directs his attention back to his magazine.

Sherlock stumbles through the isles, momentarily forgetting what he's there for. When he spots the baby items, his mind focuses.

He stops in front of the diapers, and god there are so many. Sherlock hasn't really had to shop for diapers, not alone, so he quizzically stares at all of the different brands, types, styles, and sizes expecting one to literally hop off the shelf at him. He yawns loudly and rubs sleep out of his eyes.

The cashier waits at the front of the store, expecting the man back any second, but the man doesn't reappear. He grows worried, hoping the man didn't pass out or throw up or do anything else terrible drunks do. The worker checks to make sure nobody is coming into the store, then leaves his post to find the man.

He strides through the isles, glancing down each one for the man. He takes one slight glance down the baby isle, then keeps walking passed as if the man weren't there. Then he backtracks, realizing what he'd missed.

He carefully approaches the man. "Sir," he starts, startling Sherlock. "Can I help you?"

Sherlock slowly blinks at the worker. "I was sent for diapers."

"Oh," the worker says. "Well, there are many kinds. Which one do you need?"

Sherlock harshly shrugs. "I don't know, my husband usually buys them."

"Oh," the worker repeats. He stares at the swaying man next to him. "Are you drunk?"

"No, you idiot!" Sherlock snaps. "I'm tired! Now tell me which to get so I can go back to bed!"

The worker furrows his eyebrows. "Listen, man-"

"Shut up. Help me."

Suddenly, the boy begins to chuckle. "You're Sherlock Holmes!"

Sherlock squints his eyes at the worker. He's used to people recognizing him and John, but rarely do they _chuckle_!

"Why are you laughing?" Sherlock demands.

"You solve crimes!" the worker cries. "You chase bad guys! And now you're in my store buying diapers at two-fifteen in the morning!"

Sherlock glares at him, then looks back at the diapers.

"I didn't know you had a baby," the worker says.

"I don't usually disclose my person information to the public-"

"I didn't know you were married-"

"Now that it's _true_, people don't _assume_-"

"I didn't know you were gay-"

Sherlock cuts him off entirely, "Can you please just help me?!"

The worker's laughter subsides. "Ok, well, how old is your baby?"

"Five months old," Sherlock not-so-confidently replies.

"You don't know how old your baby is?" the worker mocks.

"Of course I know how old he is! Five months, two weeks, three days, and five hours old."

The worker nods. "Alright, how big is he?"

"Uhm..." Sherlock holds his hands up to show how big the baby is, then thinks about it and spends five minutes adjusting the size. Finally, he holds his hands up to his own body and estimates where the baby rests comfortably on his chest. "This big!" he finally shouts, like a three year old.

The worker just stares and accepts when Sherlock finds the right size of his infant. "Right, then, uhm..." the worker just takes one off the shelf that he'd assume a baby of that size and age would wear. "These look familiar?"

Sherlock examines them. "Sure. These look fine."

The worker leads Sherlock through the isle. "Anything else? Cleaning wipes? Powder? Diaper rash cream?"

Sherlock shrugs and yawns. "I was only sent for one thing," he says when he catches his breath.

The cashier rings up the item and tells Sherlock his total. "At least you didn't have to go for late night craving runs and stuff like that. You just have to get diapers."

"Actually, my surrogate called me any chance she had to get me to do things for her. I'm used to this, but that doesn't make it any more easy."

The cashier laughs. "Well," he says as he hands Sherlock his receipt. "Have a good...morning."

Sherlock gives him a groggy smile, takes the diapers, and leaves.

Somehow he arrives home, nearly pausing to take a nap in the street instead of walking the rest of the way. He stumbles loudly up the stairs, but when he get to his bedroom he sees John sound asleep with a baby on his belly. Sherlock tipsily grins, then drops the diapers on the changing table, shucks off his coat and tosses it over the rocking chair John moved into their bedroom.

Sherlock falls face first onto his side of the bed, waking John slightly.

"Hmm?" John sighs awake. "Back already?"

"I've been gone forty-five minutes, John."

"Mmm," John mutters, climbing out of bed. "Want to help me? Open the diaper box?"

"No," Sherlock nearly shouts.

"Alright alright," John says. "Relax, you big baby."

John goes over to the changing table and lays the baby down once again. He's fast asleep, to John's delight. John opens the box and pulls out a diaper, quickly putting it on the baby and pulling the baby's pajamas back on.

"Good as new, Little Ian," John whispers to his son.

The baby licks his lips and babbles. John pulls him into his arms, cradling him close.

"You talk in your sleep, just like your daddy," John whispers.

"I do not talk in my sleep," Sherlock says to that.

John chuckles. "I'm pretty sure you're doing just that now, love."

John walks the baby around the room a few times, then grows tired once more. He kisses the infant's chubby cheek and lays him down in his bassinet.

John returns to his bed and flops down next to Sherlock. "Thank you, Sherlock."

"Hmm?"

"For getting the diapers."

Sherlock turns his head and looks at John. "You did ask me to earlier."

John smiles in the dark. "Love you."

Sherlock smiles back, then leans over and kisses John goodnight.

The three Holmes-Watson men sleep soundly until morning.


	49. Chapter 49: AU

****_This chapter is an AU of my AU, where they have a second baby. Hope you all enjoy_**!

* * *

><p>When Ian was about to turn three, everyone asked him what he wanted for his birthday. And every single time, no matter who asked (whether it was Lestrade or the random lady at Tesco one evening), he'd give the same answer:<p>

A new baby.

The first time he said it, John and Sherlock were in complete shock. Never had they ever discussed having another child, let alone mention it in front of Ian. They had no idea where he got the wish, but all he wanted was a new baby.

This got John and Sherlock thinking about how great it would be if they had another. Now would be the best time to do it, if their plans worked the baby could be born around Ian's fourth birthday, and four years apart is a well enough space for two kids to be close but not have to compete in school or anything. They liked the idea, so a few weeks after Ian's third birthday, they went back to the surrogacy agency to find an egg.

Weeks later, they had absolutely no luck finding a suitable mother for their second child. No women fit their criteria, and this left them upset.

One evening, Sherlock talked it over with Amy, who he's been in touch with since Ian's birth.

"It was so easy finding you," Sherlock said to her. "You were absolutely perfect."

"It was easy," she agreed. "I had only been in the system a month before you found me."

Sherlock sighed. "We can't find anyone. I want the baby to be John's this time, so he wants a woman who looks like me, but that's fairly limited right now, so-"

Amy stopped him. "Why don't you just use me again?"

Sherlock was confused. Amy just got married and had hopes of starting her own family soon. She couldn't carry their child and happily carry her own.

"Amy, that's very kind of you, but-"

"No, no I mean that I can give you my eggs, and they put them into somebody else. I'd be happy to. Your children could be biological siblings."

Sherlock liked that idea, but he didn't agree too quickly. They talked about it for weeks, Sherlock discussing it with John and Amy discussing it with her husband.

A month after the phone call, all parties agreed and Amy returned to England to donate her eggs.

They found a carrier quickly after that. She was inseminated only weeks later and officially pregnant nearly exactly four months after Ian's third birthday.

The baby was born a month after Ian's fourth birthday. He was born round and chubby like a teddy bear, as Ian called him, with a stout John-like nose, sandy blonde hair, and crystal blue eyes that they hoped would stay.

They tried to pick a name for him before he arrived, but they had so many that they couldn't pick. The names they had narrowed it down to were Mark, Colin, David, James, Joseph, or Daniel. They figured they'd know when they saw him, that the first name they thought of when they laid eyes on him would be his name.

They were wrong. The first time they both saw him, they were speechless. They were overjoyed, yes, so happy they had another little son, but no names came to mind.

They left the hospital without picking a name. John finally wanted to just name him Sherlock Jr., but Sherlock hated the idea.

When they got home, Ian and Mrs. Hudson were waiting upstairs for them. Mrs. Hudson hadn't even seen him either, so she was just as eager as Ian.

Ian demanded he hold the baby as soon as they got through the door. John was holding the baby in his seat, up above Ian's line of sight.

"Lemme see him, Dad!" Ian demanded.

John laughed. "Hang on, Ian. Let me get situated here."

Ian waited not-so-patiently while John took off the diaper bag and finally set the baby carrier on the ground.

"Wow..." Ian sighed upon seeing his brother for the first time.

"What do you think son?" John asked, kneeling next to Ian.

"He's small," Ian observed.

John laughed. "Yep, he sure is. I remember when you were that small. Just as cute too, only you had black hair and your baby brother has blonde hair."

Sherlock arrived next to them and pulled the baby out of the seat to let Mrs. Hudson hold him. She shed a few tears, of course, ecstatic that there was another Holmes-Watson under her roof.

"What's his name, Daddy?" Ian asked.

"Uhm...we haven't exactly picked one, yet."

Ian frowned. "He's gotta have name." He hopped onto the sofa with Mrs. Hudson and gazed at the little creature in her arms. "You've gotta have a name," he whispered to the baby, touching his cheek. "Don't ya, Sam?"

John and Sherlock exchanged confused looks.

"Sam?" they asked at the same time.

"Yeah," Ian said, "that's what I'm

gonna call him."

John patted Ian's head. "What do you think, Sherlock? Does he look like a Sam?"

Sherlock nodded. "Sam seems exactly right."

Ian loved Sam. He couldn't bare to be apart from the baby for more than the amount of time it took him to take a bath, he loved being in Sam's company. He was learning how to read, so he read to Sam all the time. He introduced Sam to all the people who visited after the birth, plus introducing Sam to his favorite toys and movies.

Everything was perfect, and the two Holmes-Watson boys were very happy.

Ian liked to be near Sam so much that he insisted on sleeping with their dads to be near the baby. Sam slept in his bassinet near the bed, and Ian slept right between their dads.

Sam was a good baby who rarely cried during the night, but one evening he cried so loud and for so long that Ian was frustrated.

"Take him back!" Ian shouted over the screaming infant.

John couldn't help but laugh. "I can't just take him back, Ian," John patiently explained. "I've got to figure out what he wants and how to soothe him."

Ian threw himself against the pillow. "Just return him."

"We couldn't return you," Sherlock mumbled into his pillow.

John laughed and swatted his back.

John took Sam to the rocking chair in the corner of the room and sat. The baby nearly instantly calmed, the motion of the chair easing him. John heard Ian hop off the bed and blindly go to the chair.

"It's working," Ian whispered as he touched John's knee.

"Sure is. This chair is magic."

"Magic?" Ian curiously asked. "What makes it magic?"

John rearranged Sam in his arms and pulled Ian to his lap too. Ian snuggled up as much as he could, tucking his head under John's chin.

"Well," John explained once they were situated. "Your grandma gave this to me as a gift before you were born. And when you were a tiny baby like Sam, you loved to be in it. I rocked you to sleep nearly every night. So, I figured it had to be magical. Wouldn't you agree?"

Ian nodded and yawned loudly.

John smiled. "Apparently it's still magical."

"I guess so Dad," Ian muttered.

"Should we still take Sam back?"

Ian shook his head. "No, 's ok. I like him. He's nice."

John chuckled. "Well, that's a relief."

Ian reached over and stroked Sam's hair. "Why does Sam have blonde hair and mine is black?"

John shrugged. "Because your mine and daddy's sons, so you match us."

Ian yawned again instead of accepting the answer.

"Go to sleep, love," John whispered into Ian's black curls.

Ian tucked deeper into John's neck and laid a hand over Sam. "G'night, Sammy," he said.

"I think Sam says goodnight," John said back.

"He didn't say anything Dad," Ian sternly said. "He's asleep."

John laughed. "Oh right, sorry."

Minutes later, Ian's body sagged with sleep so John carried both of the boys to his and Sherlock's bed. He laid Ian between them and Sam on his chest, and the four Holmes-Watson boys rested peacefully.

* * *

><p>Sam and Ian got along very well. Ian loved his baby brother and was so happy when Sam was finally old enough to play. They played all the time, often alone up in Ian's bedroom. They loved being in each other's company.<p>

Sam was so attached to Ian that he hated when Ian would leave for school.

"Why's he gotta go?" Sam would demand when John would leave to take Ian to school.

"He's got to go to school," Sherlock explained while feeding the toddler his breakfast.

Sam moved to get out of his high chair. "Oh! I go too!"

Sherlock laughed and pushed Sam back into his seat. "Not yet, little one."

Sam scowled and crossed his arms. "I go too," he demanded again.

Sherlock laughed again. "You're stubborn, just like your dad. In time, son. Now, please eat your cereal."

"I not stubborn," Sam grunted as he took the spoonful of cereal Sherlock offered.

Sherlock did love that Sam was so much like John, in every sense, from his sandy blonde hair to his round belly and from his immense amount of caring to his extremely stubborn nature. He couldn't help but smile when Sam would cross his arms and scowl at everything, then turn around and be just as happy just as quickly.

And Sam was so smart, like Ian. The difference between the two boys, however, was that when Ian wanted to know something, he'd do the research or an 'experiment' to find the facts. Differently, if Sam wanted to know something, he'd just ask someone and expect an ample explanation. It wasn't that Ian enjoyed reading or experimentation more, it was just that Sam liked to be taught and Ian liked to self-teach.

Ian never minded teaching Sam what he wanted to know. Through this, Sam was always a bit ahead of the kids in his class because of the things his brother taught him.

One afternoon, when the boys were twelve and eight, Ian was in the kitchen working on a science project and Sam was sitting silently watching.

Sam would ask questions along the way, but Ian was trying to focus and do the best work he could, so he was giving Sam short answers or not answer him at all.

Ian was getting frustrated too, because the experiment was not giving him the same conclusions as his hypothesis.

"Why's it do that?" Sam asked after Ian dropped an apple into a bowl of water to see if it would sink or float.

"Uhm..." Ian wasn't really paying attention to him. "I don't know."

"You do know, you just wrote it down."

Ian sighed. "Because the apple is less dense than water."

"What's 'dense'?"

"I don't know," Ian absentmindedly muttered.

"You do know!"

Ian grunted. "Density is like the amount of mass in something," he said.

"What's 'mass'?" Sam asked.

"Ugh!" Ian shouted this time. "You're so dumb, go pick up a book or something! Leave me alone, you idiot!"

Sam just stood there staring at Ian. Never had Ian been so mean to him, not even after the time Sam broke his favorite magnifying glass or deflated his favorite football.

Suddenly, Sherlock rushed through the kitchen and grabbed Ian by the arm. He pulled Ian away from the table and down the hall into his and John's bedroom, where he threw Ian in and slammed the door.

Ian immediately began to cry. He sat stiffly on the bed and buried his face in his hands.

Sherlock stood in front of him with his hands on his hips. "Do you want to tell me why I'm so angry, Ian?"

Ian sniffles into his hands. "Because I called Sam names."

"That's right," Sherlock said, his voice booming without him actually shouting.

"You call people names all the time!" Ian said back. "You call people dumb-"

"Just because I do something does not ever mean you have permission to do the same, Ian. How do you think Sam feels now that you think he's dumb? Or since you shouted at him? He just wants to know what you know, Ian, and shouting at him and calling him names isn't going to make him understand things."

Ian cried into his hands. "I'm sorry, Dad!"

"I'm not who you need to apologize to, Ian. You need to go tell Sam you're sorry. And afterwards go to your room. You can finish your experiment later. No toys or games, you sit and read out of your textbook until dinner."

Ian wiped his eyes and nodded.

Sherlock leaned down and got right in Ian's face. "And if I ever hear you call him names again, you will be in so much trouble. Understand?"

Ian looked in Sherlock's eyes and nodded.

"Good," Sherlock said, standing.

Ian followed Sherlock back into the kitchen. Ian wiped his eyes and continued to sniffle, but Sherlock looked as poised as ever.

Sam watched Sherlock pass, his eyes fearful and worried, so Sherlock smiled at him and leaned down to nuzzle and kiss his cheek and neck. Sam giggled and pushed him away, then Sherlock left the boys alone.

Sam looked curiously at Ian.

"I'm sorry I called you names, Sam," Ian said between cries. "I don't think you're dumb, I promise."

"Why'd you shout?" Sam asked.

"I was frustrated, but not at you, ok? I'm sorry."

Sam nodded. "It's ok, Ian."

Ian held his arms out for Sam and Sam hugged him tight.

"I love you, Sammy," Ian said while hugging him.

"I love you too, Ian."

Ian pulled away and smiled, then left his little brother in the kitchen to go serve his punishment.

Sam left Ian's experiment alone, knowing he'd be in trouble if he messed with it. He went to the sitting room with Sherlock to wait for John to get home.

* * *

><p>The boys never fought, either. They'd get frustrated with each other, sure. Like any siblings they argued and such, but it never lasted. They'd always get over their disagreements quickly and move on from it.<p>

They didn't even fight even though they shared a room for nine years. By the time Ian was a teenager, he decided he needed more space, so they fixed up the small 221C flat for his bedroom. He thought it was amazing, and he felt good being separated from Sam (even though Sam ended up in there with him all the time).

Around the same time of Ian moving rooms, Sam began to notice that he looked more like his Dad (John) and Ian looked more like his Daddy (Sherlock). This confused him; of course by then he knew that even though two men could be married, they couldn't make a baby. But he also noticed that he and Ian had the same nose, the same lips, and other similar characteristics like their mutual strawberry allergy.

"Ian," Sam started one afternoon while they were down in Ian's bedroom. "How come we look alike?"

"Because we're brothers, duh," Ian said.

"No...but..." Sam couldn't find the words. He was silent for minutes until he figured it out. "Like...we have the same nose and lips, but I have blonde hair and you have black hair. And I am short like Dad and you're tall like Daddy. And my belly is round, but Dad says you're skin and bones. How come?"

Ian thinks about shrugging and saying he doesn't know, but he knows Sam wants answers and he remembers when he wanted to know the answers, too.

"Well," Ian set his book down to look at Sam. "See, you know a man and a woman have to make a baby right?"

Sam nodded.

"Well, obviously Dad and Daddy can't make a baby, right? So, when they wanted us, they went out and found a woman to take her eggs, and they had us. And, to make the baby, a man needs to give something called sperm. But only ones man can. So, Daddy made me and Dad made you."

Sam takes in the information slowly.

"But," Ian adds, "The same woman gave her eggs to make us, so biologically, we have the same mother."

Sam thinks about that and realizes that Ian is implying that that's the only way they're brothers. Tears suddenly swell in his eyes and he looks at Ian. "Is Daddy not my Daddy?"

"No, no! Of course he's your Daddy! I didn't mean that Sam, I'm sorry!"

Sam sighs relief and sniffles.

"Do you understand?"

Sam nods. "I think so."

"Dad could explain it better. If you want to know more, ask him. Ok?"

Sam nods.

Ian smiles at his little brother and wraps an arm around his shoulder. "Come on, lets go get some ice cream!"

Sam lights up and smiles, then follows Ian upstairs to get the ice cream.

* * *

><p>Sam and Ian were so far apart in school that they were never together while growing up. They didn't mind that, though, because by the time Sam was old enough to go to school he didn't mind that Ian wasn't there.<p>

When they got to be fifteen and eleven, their schools were just down the street from each other. When Ian got off school, he'd walk down the street to get Sam and they'd go to the tube together. Sam always waited patiently for Ian and he loved when his big brother would get there for him.

One particular day, Ian walked up while typing away on his phone, so he didn't notice that Sam was pressed against the school's fence and another taller boy was in his face.

When Ian finally looked up, the boy was walking away and Sam was still against the fence nearly trembling.

Ian ran to him.

"Sam! What happened?!"

"Nothing," Sam said. "Nothing, it was-"

Sam's friend Billy was next to him, just as scared as Sam.

"He was calling Sam names," Billy said. "Saying stuff about your dads. He said Sam was a...a disgrace, or something."

Ian grew angry very nearly instantly. He looked towards where the bully went, and spotted him quickly.

"I'll be back," Ian said, stepping away from his little brother.

"No, Ian," Sam begged. "It's fine, it's just-"

"It's not fine," Ian sternly said. "He needs to be told that treating you badly isn't right. I'll be right back."

Sam watched as his big brother marched over to the bully and tapped on his shoulder.

The boy turned around and looked Ian up and down. "Who the hell are you?" he asked.

"I'm Sam Holmes-Watson's brother. I saw you bullying him over there."

The boy glances at Sam and smirked. "We were just having a laugh."

Ian judged that the boy was thirteen, far too old to be in Sam's school, so what he said next he didn't feel too bad about.

"If you dare touch or say anything to my little brother again, I'll kick your teeth in. Understand?"

The bully furrowed his brow. "Listen, man-"

"I asked if you understand."

The kid locked his lips and glances back at Sam, who still looked scared. "Whatever," he said.

Ian stepped at him so quickly the kid winced. "Don't you even look at him ever again. Got it?"

The kid trembled once and stood up straight. "Fine."

Ian stood tall and straightened his coat. He glared at the kid once then went back to Sam.

Ian touched his cheek and smiled a weak smile at him. "You ok, Sammy?" he asked.

Sam nodded and leaned in to his brother's touch. "I just want to go home."

Ian nodded and wrapped an arm around Sam. He led Sam down the street and to the tube.

Sam never felt more happy with his brother, more proud to be with Ian. He never loved his big brother more.

* * *

><p>**<strong><em>Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy even though its kind of random. I liked the idea of Ian getting a baby brother, so I hope you guys don't mind it! <em>**


	50. Chapter 50: Asleep

_****It seems you reader wanted more Sam, so here you go! : )**_

* * *

><p>John and Sherlock smiled down at their two boys resting between them. Sherlock cradled Sam close, running his fingers up and down his baby soft belly. Ian's head was mashed against John's stomach, and John stroked his straight black hair.<p>

Sherlock pressed his nose into the nearly one-year-old's shaggy blonde hair.

"He smells like you," Sherlock muttered.

John smiled. "I never thought I could see a child more attached to their Dad than Ian was to you, but Sam is a whole different story. It's like he needs you with him to...to function."

Sherlock looked at him with sorry eyes. "Does that bother you?"

John snorted. "Of course not! Never in a million years will I be bothered by that."

Sherlock half smiled and moved his hand down to Ian's chest.

"Which one do you like more?" John jokingly asked.

Sherlock looked at him in horror.

John laughed at him. "I'm joking, love! I'm just kidding!"

Sherlock sighed in relief. "I could never choose, John."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, I was kidding."

Sherlock nodded and fell silent, just looking at his two babies. It was peaceful, watching them. Their chests rising and falling with each breath, their faces shared the same look of sleepy bliss.

After long minutes of watching them, Sam took a long breath and stirred awake. He blinked his large blue eyes up at Sherlock and yawned. Sherlock just smiled at him.

Sam moved around and twisted his body, his legs extending to stretch from his nap. In the process, he kicked Ian in the head.

"Ow!" Ian shouted, instantly twisting to glare up at Sam.

The once very still and peaceful baby scowled down at his brother.

"You kicked me!" Ian shouted, sitting up.

"No!" Sam shouted back.

John sat up with a strangled sigh. "Well, it was peaceful while it lasted. What do you boys want for lunch?"

Sherlock followed him up and took Sam in his arms. Sam rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder but still looked at John.

"I want you to hold me!" Ian begged to Sherlock.

"No!" Sam shouted again.

Sherlock stifled a laugh and extended his arm for Ian.

Sherlock groaned and pretended they were too heavy. "Oh! I'm going to drop you both!"

"You're being silly, Daddy!" Ian said, laughing.

Sam just laughed in agreement.

Sherlock carried the boys to the kitchen where John was already taking the bread out to make sandwiches. Sherlock set the boys in their chairs and moved to help John.

The rest of the afternoon was peaceful, with only a little bit of argument between the siblings.


	51. Chapter 51: Singing

When he was first learning, Sam picked up the habit of singing on the potty. He loved to sing and hum, like children do, and it'll take him a while before he breaks the habit of singing while using the toilet.

Right now, two and a half year old Sam is on the toilet with the door half open, singing as loudly as he can.

"A...B...C...D...E..." he goes on and on. Twice.

John is in the kitchen washing the dishes and waiting for him to finish. Sherlock and Ian are out, they went to Bart's to sort out an issue with the evidence.

Sam finishes his song and moves on to the next.

"Twinkle twinkle little star...how...I...won-der...whatchare..."

He goes through the tune twice and John just laughs at him from the kitchen, loving how adorable his baby is. He knows Ian was cute too, but Ian was much more rigid as a two year old, somewhat more serious. Sam likes to sing on the toilet, Ian didn't.

Sam continues singing, though John hears him abruptly stop.

"DADDY!" Sam shouts as if in danger.

John drops the dish he's holding and grabs a towel as he runs to the bathroom door.

"What, what?"

"Daddy!" Sam nearly shouts again. "Tha's the same song!"

John slowly cracks a smile and runs a relieved hand over his face. He laughs into his palm.

"You're right, Sam," John sighs. "They're the same tune."

"Tha's amazin'!" Sam exclaims.

John laughs. "Are you done?"

Sam nods and John helps him out.

"I tell Daddy and Ian later!" Sam says as he and John wash their hands.

"I'm sure they'll be astonished by your brilliant discovery."

"Yeah! I sure, too!"

John smiles down at him and Sam smiles at his dad. John bends to kiss his forehead, then they go in the kitchen to finish the dishes.

* * *

><p>**<strong><em>Here's some more Sam for you guys because I like him! And for rudeANDginger (your review was so kind, by the way!) I wrote an independent story called First Meeting, in which Ian learns of and meets Amy for the first time. Sam's not in that one, an maybe one day I'll write one of Sam meeting her, but there is one where Ian meets her. So everyone check out "First Meeting". Thanks for reading!<em>**

**_**Ps: I take Sam's two year old dialogue from my two year old nephew. He sings twinkle twinkle little star the same way Sam does._**


	52. Chapter 52: Older Girls

**_A/N: I'm going to try to post more here. Hope you enjoy, sorry for the long absence. I've been busy with my other stories _****Being 16****_, _****Meant to Be****_, and _****30 Day OTP Challenge****_. If you haven't, check 'me out! _**

* * *

><p>It's parent's night at Ian's school, and the thirteen year old is almost too embarrassed to tell his dads. Usually, he wouldn't be embarrassed of them. They're great men who do very great things, but recently Ian's opinion has changed.<p>

It has nothing to do with the work. Nothing to do with fans or people stopping his dads on the street to snap a photo. No. It's the fact that his history teacher is in love with John. She has actually said the words, "I just love your father!"

So Ian really doesn't want him to go, and if at all possible make Sherlock stay home too, but he loses the battle and the three of them go to parent's night.

For parent's night, the parents and students are to follow the student's daily schedule to visit each teacher for ten minutes, then move on to the next class.

Ian's first class is math, but since he's been having problems in that class, John stays back to talk to his teacher. Ian and Sherlock leave for second period alone.

They walk down the hall together, Sherlock deducing everyone they pass and Ian laughing while trying to get him to stop.

"Peanut butter and jam for lunch," Sherlock whispers. "And-"

"Hey, Ian!" a tall, blonde girl squeals as she passes.

Ian smiles. "Hey, Chloe."

Sherlock only pauses for a second, then continues. "That person got a cab here and-"

Another girl, this one shorter and red headed, touches Ian's arm as she passes. "Hello, Ian!"

Ian smiles and waves. "Hi, Brook."

Sherlock pauses to look at his son, then goes on. "And that person-"

A third girl, this one dark skin and brunette, positively beams at him. "Ian, hi!"

Ian swipes hair out of his eyes and grins widely. "Hey, Angie."

Sherlock stops in the hallway. "What is this, what's going on?"

Ian looks at him. "What?"

"All the girls who pass either say hello or stare at you like you're a celebrity."

"Yeah, so?"

"Are you..." Sherlock examines him. "Are you cute?"

Ian blushes. "Dad!"

"Do these girls like you?"

Ian covers his face. "Ugh, Dad!"

"I suppose you do look quite a lot like me and Amy is very attractive-"

"Dad!" Ian tries again. "Let's go!"

"Your Dad is going to be so proud, son."

The oldest looking girl walks by right then. "Hey Ian, call me," she says, smiling widely.

Ian smiles back and is about to agree, but Sherlock stops him.

"Absolutely not that girl is nearly fifteen. You are twelve."

"I'm thirteen!"

"Since when?!"

"Since six months ago!"

John catches up to them by now. "What's going on?"

Sherlock answers. "Your son is a...what's the word? Stud!"

John cracks a smile. "Ian, way to-"

"The last girl was nearly fifteen, John."

John laughs. "Well that's a bit too old for you, son, but-"

"Dad!" Ian cries again, this time at John.

John pats his shoulder. "Come on. What's your next class?"

"History," Ian says, leading them down the hall.

"Oh, goody!" John says.

Ian groans in frustration and walks faster. John and Sherlock laugh together and follow their flustered son.


	53. Chapter 53: Hiccups

_**A/N: More Sam because I love him. Got prompts? Hope you enjoy, please review!**_

* * *

><p>Sherlock's not in bed when John gets up and starts getting ready, and that's fine. Sherlock usually tries to distract him anyway, begging him not to get out of bed until he absolutely <em>needs <em>to, which is usually when one or both of their sons are banging on their bedroom door.

But there was no banging, and there is no Sherlock, so John slowly gets ready for the day without any interruptions.

When he finally emerges from their bedroom to head to the bathroom, he hears why he wasn't interrupted for the morning; soft giggles coming from the kitchen indicates Sherlock's making a show out of breakfast. No doubt there are secret telling cereal bowls, joking slices of toast, and whispering endearments glasses of milk (Ian hates milk, so Sherlock always makes Ian's milk say things like, '_You are so brilliant and clever, Mr. Watson-Holmes, I love you so much!'_).

John's right, of course. When he enters the kitchen he finds the boys giggling at their father's impression of a scrambled egg trying to climb out of the pan. The egg squeals in delight when he's dropped on the plate, then thanked over and over when the plate is placed in front of Ian.

"Thank you, thank you!" Sherlock cries in a high-pitched voice. "Keep me out of that wretched pan!"

The seven-year-old laughs, then digs in to his egg.

John appears behind him and places a hand on Ian's shoulder. Ian twists to look up at John, a giant grin on his face. "Dad!" he shouts, standing on his chair to jump into John's arms.

"Hello, my love," John says, kissing Ian's cheek before setting him back in his seat.

Sam shouts in delight when John makes his way to him. Sam lets John kiss his cheek while he tells John, "Morning!" which is something the nearly three-year-old can say clearly. Then, Sam goes on to tell John something about a puppy and rain, but his entire speech is muddled together and slurred because when Sam gets excited, he talks too fast, and when he talks too fast, he's impossible to understand.

"Uhm…" John says, smiling and looking up at Sherlock.

"He had a dream about a puppy," Sherlock explains. "And the puppy was stuck in the rain."

"Ahh," John sighs, kissing Sam again. "How interested, Sam!"

Sam just happily grins and continues eating his cereal.

John finally makes it to Sherlock. He wraps an arm around Sherlock's waist and kisses his shoulder. "What's this for? You were up late."

Sherlock shrugs. "So were you."

"I was _reading, _you were—"

Sherlock presses a slice of banana dipped in yogurt against John's tongue.

"Delicious," John whispers.

Sherlock grins and kisses him.

"Daddy!" Ian squeaks.

"Daddy!" Sam repeats.

Sherlock twists around quickly. "What's next?"

"Banana!" Sam yells.

Sherlock and John share one more quick kiss while John is slicing the banana, then they go on with their breakfast before John and Ian leave for work and school.

* * *

><p>Sherlock and Sam retire to the sofa after cleaning up after breakfast. They're both still in pajamas, and they happily sit and watch cartoons.<p>

Sam giggles uncontrollably when Goofy from Mickey Mouse does something funny. He laughs so hard that he falls over on the sofa, burying his face in his hand and muffling his laughs. His body shakes with laughter so hard that Sherlock can feel the vibration under his thigh.

Sherlock's low rumbled chuckle gets Sam's attention. He turns over onto his back and looks up at Sherlock.

"Is funny!" he says.

Sherlock reaches over and rubs his belly. "Yes, it is funny. _You _are funny."

Sam presses a hand to his chest. "I funny?"

"Yes, you!"

He points up at Sherlock. "You funny!"

"You're funny!" Sherlock argues, tickling Sam's neck.

Sam squeals and laughs harder and harder as Sherlock continues to tickle him.

Sam's laughter gets louder and harder, but he abruptly stops and his body jerks with a loud hiccup. He grabs his neck and alarmingly looks up at Sherlock.

Sherlock chuckles and picks him up. "It's ok, love. Just the hiccups."

Sam looks scared as he hiccups again.

Sherlock kisses his head and stands. "Water, yeah? Water helps."

They go to the kitchen and get Sam a sippy-cup of water. Sherlock tells him to drink it slowly and Sam's hiccups disappear almost instantly.

Sam sighs relief as he sets his water down. "All better."

"All better," Sherlock agrees, kissing his head.

They continue with their cartoon marathon, all the while Sherlock thinks about Sam getting the hiccups. Clearly, he's never gotten them before, and he wonders what made them occur.

Sherlock determines it was Sam's uncontrollable laughing that got his hiccups started, but this makes Sherlock wonder about what else could cause hiccups. He starts up an experiment (a safe experiment, one that won't harm his child) and gets to work.

Sherlock knows that eating too fast can often start hiccups, so he makes Sam a sandwich for lunch and starts.

"Eat this really fast, son," Sherlock says. "We'll race!"

"Race!"

"Yes, race! Ready, set, go!"

"Go!" Sam yells, then eats his sandwich as fast as he can.

No hiccups. Sherlock scratches his head and watches as Sam devours his sandwich, then some crackers, then some apple slices, all as fast as he can.

"Daddy," Sam frowns, then rubs his belly and mutters something sounding like a stomach ache complaint.

"Oh," Sherlock frowns, taking Sam in his arms.

He carries Sam back to the sofa and lays the baby on his chest, then rubs Sam's stomach soothingly. Sam's happy and back to his normal self in minutes, and Sherlock apologizes to him for the experiment.

After the get dressed because Sherlock knows John will be home soon (and will complain about them still being in their pajamas), he takes Sam into the kitchen and sits him on the kitchen table.

Sam sits cross legged on the table while Sherlock sits at the chair, leaning forward on his elbows and resting his chin in his hand. He stares at Sam and Sam stares back at him.

Sam gets tired of this very quickly. He begins to babble to Sherlock about the cartoons they watched during the morning, his dream about the puppy in the rain, about the sandwich he ate, about being hungry again, then he abruptly stops.

Sherlock watches Sam's finger approach his face, tap his nose, and Sam say, "Boop."

Then, Sam begins to giggle uncontrollably once again, starting up a slow string of hiccups.

"Success!" Sherlock shouts, right as John enters the flat.

"Success?" John asks, kissing Sherlock's head.

"I have successfully caused Sam to get the hiccups."

"Sherlock!" John cries, taking a distressed Sam in his arms. "Stop experimenting on him!"

"Why not? It's a controlled environment, I don't wish to harm him. The other one never let me experiment on him."

"The other one has a name, Sherlock."

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "He's half mine, I have the right to administer whatever parenting style I wish."

John gives Sam his water and tells Sam to drink slowly while flicking Sherlock in the head.

"Ow!"

Sam rests his head against John's shoulder.

"How was your day then, darling?" John asks, calming Sam in his arms.

Sam lifts his head again and tells John, "Watch Mickey! Aaaand ate fast, fast, fast!"

John looks at Sherlock. "Oh, really?"

Sherlock just shrugs.

"Aaaand—" Sam mimics a loud hiccup noise, then starts to laugh.

John laughs with him. "Easy there."

Sam slows to a giggle, then 'boops' John's nose like he had Sherlock's. John begins to laugh, and Sam laughs more.

"Should we forgive Daddy for experimenting on you?" John asks Sam.

Sam happily nods. "Yes!"

John kisses his cheek. "Ok," he turns to Sherlock. "You're forgiven, Daddy."

Sherlock stands and leans in to kiss John.

John quickly turns around. "Not that forgiven."

Sherlock doesn't do any more experiments like that on Sam again.

Well, at least for about a month.


	54. Chapter 54: Teenager

"I think he hates me," Sherlock whispers as low as he can. "I think he genuinely hates me."

John peers into the sitting room where the wild beast of their teenage son is sitting on the sofa. His perfect face resembles his husband's so much that John can't help but grin widely.

"Oh Sherlock," John finally says. "He does not."

"Then why does he snap at everything I say? We haven't even spoken today, he's just buried himself with books and his iPad. I asked him if he wanted lunch and he almost bit my head off."

John can't help but laugh. "He's a teenager, love. Teenagers have bad days. Didn't you hate your parents and the entire world when you were his age?"

Sherlock grows a hurt expression. "So he does hate me?"

"No, no!" John cries. "And I'm sure he doesn't want to talk to me either. Here, watch."

John pokes his head through the doorway from the kitchen to the living room.

"Hey, Ian?"

Ian takes a headphone out of his ears. "Yes, Dad?"

John shoots Sherlock a glance that says 'look, he's fine!'. "You hungry?"

Ian nods. "I could eat. Thanks Dad."

John gives him a smile and Ian places his earbud in again.

"He's fine."

"He hates me!"

John sighs. "Okay, you try. I'm sure he's just needed space all day, I'm sure he's over it now."

"I'm scared!"

"Be a man and talk to your son."

Sherlock frowns.

John pushes him towards the doorway.

Sherlock takes a deep breath and tries. "Hey, Ian?"

Ian lowers am earbud. "What?" he snaps.

Sherlock nervously licks his lips. "Uhm...we're having that...that chicken thing you like for dinner."

Ian sighs an exasperated sigh. "I know, I saw you unload the groceries."

Sherlock just frowns.

John steps in. "You still like that stuff, right son?"

Ian smiles at John. "Yes Dad, I love it."

"Well, it was Dad's idea."

Ian drops the smile. "Thanks," he mumbles, putting his headphones in again.

Sherlock and John dip behind the door again and Sherlock throws his arms in the air.

John lets out a chuckle. "Sherlock, relax. He's fourteen. Tomorrow he'll adore you and he'll be repulsed by me."

Sherlock frowns deeply, so John takes him in a hug.

"Why does he have to be a terrible teen?" Sherlock asks against the top of John's head.

"Kids grow up, love. Soon he'll be your best friend again."

"Mmm," Sherlock sighs, unconvinced.

"At least we have each other," John says, tilting his head up for a kiss.

Sherlock obliges, giving John a quick peck that turns into almost an entire snog.

"Ugh!" they hear behind them a second later, causing them to break apart in a flash.

Ian storms out of the kitchen, stomping upstairs to his bedroom.

John laughs. "Dinner will be ready in ten!"

Ian's bedroom door slams and Sherlock can't help it, he breaks into a fit of giggles.

"Dinner is going to be a blast," John says between laughs.


	55. Chapter 55: Shower

Sherlock readjusts the giant bow on the shoe sized box. He chose against wrapping, for the box itself has a beautiful floral print, but the bow was necessary.

He stares at the box, regretting it completely. He tracked this down for months, but now he regrets it. It's just going to be silly, the sentiment is only held with himself, nobody will understand it. Sherlock decides he's not going to take it to the party.

His husband wanders into the room with a cheery smile. "Hey love, what's that?"

"My gift."

John does a double-take. "I didn't know you got a gift, I thought we were going to get the—"

"I found this and thought it'd be nice."

"What is it?" John asks, curious.

"Nothing, it's silly. I'm not even going to take it."

"Aww, you have to," John says. "If you put any thought into it, it'll be nice."

"I didn't put any thought into it," Sherlock lies. "I saw it and picked it up."

"Well, take it."

Sherlock just nods. He hasn't stopped thinking about this day for months, he has so many questions that he wants answered about this entire thing. This whole big change in his life that he thought, when others talked about it, would be miniscule for him, but it's actually _huge. _

He can't stop wondering if he raised his son well enough to do this.

"What do you think she'll call us?" Sherlock asks.

John shrugs. "I don't know. What did you call yours?"

"Grandfather."

John chuckles.

Sherlock looks at him. "What?"

"Nothing, just…so proper."

"What'd you call yours?"

"One was Pop and one was Sir. My mum's dad was fun, eccentric, so we all called him Pop because it was just like his personality. My dad's dad was a military man. We were just…y'know, us grandkids were just another regiment."

Sherlock nods in understanding. "What do you want to be called?"

John shrugs again. "I don't know. I think I'll just wait until she can decide."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if she starts talking and starts calling me 'John', then I will be happy."

Sherlock nods again.

John stands behind him and rests a hand on his shoulder. "You ready to go?"

Sherlock stands, grabbing his box as he goes.

* * *

><p>The party is fantastic. Ian's wife Leslie's parents are in attendance, of course, and they just love John and Sherlock. Sherlock talks to her father for almost an hour before they're interrupted.<p>

The gifts are opened and everyone "Oooooh's" and "Awwww's" at all the tiny baby girl clothes and toys. Ian and Leslie didn't want everything pink, so there are many purples, greens, and yellows. Sherlock remembers everything Ian had was red, always red. Ian is wearing a red shirt now.

Sherlock watches his son pick up the baby items and wonders if Ian can use all of those things. Can he prepare a bottle? Can he swaddle the baby safely? Can he change her? Bathe her? Dress her? What happens when she starts school and Leslie has to leave for work early? Will he be able to do her hair? Will he be able to match her clothes? Will he know when she needs shoes? And Sherlock doesn't even want to think about what happens when she hits puberty. John explained it all medically; maybe he'll have to do the same for his granddaughter.

Sherlock's stomach turns unexpectedly. _Granddaughter. _There's going to be a tiny person in his life who calls him Grandfather, or Grandpa, or Papa, or Pop.

John elbows Sherlock, and Sherlock snaps out of his thoughts.

"Where's your gift?" he whispers.

Sherlock frowns. "I left it with my coat."

"Love, give it to him."

Sherlock doesn't say anything. He doesn't want to give the gift to Ian. It was dumb to buy anyway.

* * *

><p>After gifts, the guests start to leave. Since the party is at Ian's house, John and Sherlock start to clean up. Less than half an hour later, everyone is gone except John and Sherlock, and Sherlock catches Ian slip out the door to step out onto the balcony. Sherlock follows.<p>

Ian jumps when he hears the door swing open. "Oh, Dad, you scared me."

"Sorry," Sherlock says. "Just wanted to check if you're alright."

"Yeah," Ian says. "Yeah, just…"

"Nervous?"

Ian slowly nods.

"Me too."

"Were you this nervous when I was born?"

Sherlock chuckles. "I was a mess. But now…"

Ian looks at him. "What?"

"I'm incredibly nervous for you, son."

Ian laughs. "You don't think I can raise my daughter?"

Sherlock wraps an arm around Ian's shoulders. "Of course you can raise her. I really can't believe you're expecting a baby, though."

"I know," Ian says. "I agree. But I'm twenty-seven. I'm financially stable—"

"Thanks to your inheritance."

Ian elbows Sherlock in the ribs. "I can do pretty well on my own. All I've bought with my inheritance has been this house."

Sherlock turns around on the balcony and peers up at the house. "It is gorgeous."

"Yeah," Ian agrees. "I love it. Leslie loves it. It's in a great location, there's a great school down the street."

"And that's what you have to worry about now," Sherlock tells his son.

Ian takes a deep breath.

Sherlock watches him, seeing the little boy he raised. He wonders where the time's gone, because now he's standing with his baby boy who is a grown man with a baby on the way.

"I'll be right back," Sherlock suddenly announces.

Sherlock goes through the house to the coat closet, where he gets his gift and returns back to Ian.

"What's that, Dad?"

"It's a gift I…found. Thought you'd like it. For the baby."

Ian takes the box and opens it, saving the bow.

When he pulls the lid off, his face transforms from concentrated to surprised. Ian looks like he's about to cry.

"Dad…" Ian reaches into the box, picking up the soft stuffed shark. "Where did you find this?"

"I just…saw it in a store and thought—"

"I know when you're lying."

"Internet."

Ian smiles widely. "I can't believe this. It's just like the one you bought me at the zoo." Ian glances at his dad. "You remember, when you lost my spider at the park?"

"I did not lose it!"

Ian laughs. "This is amazing Dad, thank you. I love it. She'll love it."

"I hope so."

Ian looks at Sherlock. "And she'll love you too, don't worry."

"How did you—"

"You have that look."

Sherlock softens his face.

Ian reaches over and takes Sherlock in a tight hug. "Thank you, Dad."

Sherlock kisses his head. "I love you, Ian."

"I love you, too."

They hug for a minute longer, then Ian pulls away. "Hey, want to see what we've done with the nursery?"

Sherlock agrees, so Ian leads him into the house.

* * *

><p>John and Sherlock ride home in silence. After a few minutes, John reaches over and grabs Sherlock's hand.<p>

"You okay?" John asks.

Sherlock nods. "I'm fine. How about you?"

John sighs loudly. "I'm full of cake and joy. That was a great party."

"It was," Sherlock agrees.

"Ian loved the gift."

"Mmm."

"Why didn't you tell me what it was? That you even found it?"

"I thought it was silly."

"It's not silly, love, it's wonderful. He loved it."

"I'm glad."

John lifts Sherlock's hand and kisses it. "Papa Sherlock."

Sherlock cracks a smile, the name warming his heart. He knows at that moment that he's ready for this, and his son is even more prepared than he is.


End file.
